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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25007578">The Breaking of the World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupyacunt/pseuds/shutupyacunt'>shutupyacunt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pacific Northwest Girls [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>America Trusts His Daughters, BAMF Canada, Bravery, Canada Reflects on Family, Coming of Age, Fear, Gen, Germany Meets His Match, Grief, Growth, Invasion of Normandy, Oregon Cannot Keep a Dangerous Secret, Oregon Meets France, Oregon is Very Courageous, Pre-Battle Nerves, Sister Bond, There's A Reason Denmark Loves Washington so much, Washington Has to Make a Difficult Decision, Washington Takes No Prisoners, Washington is a better shot than America, We Learn Something about Personifications, World War II, foreshadowing of future relationships, futility of peace, she saves an entire village</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:15:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>70,046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25007578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupyacunt/pseuds/shutupyacunt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of the Normandy Invasion, Canada meets his nieces in Southampton.  What takes place the next day changes everyone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pacific Northwest Girls [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Night Before/Canada + Oregon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Honestly.  Matthew, if you can't pay attention for five minutes maybe we should just forget the whole game," England sighed, exchanging a worried look with America.  "Are you that worried about tomorrow morning?  Believe me, lad, we're just as terrified as you."</p><p>Canada stared into his beer.  He didn't really hear England's words, but his voice held no comfort--it never had.  Only the knowledge that his brother would be at his side tomorrow as they assaulted the Normandy beaches gave him any peace of mind.  But even though America seemed as confident as ever, when Canada looked into his eyes he could see the exact same fear that he felt.</p><p>So he stared into his beer.</p><p>It could very well be the end of the world if tomorrow failed.  </p><p>A boisterous group of soldiers boiled into the pub, distracting America and England, so Canada was left alone at the table.  The smoke and ale scent of the room curled around him, and he ordered another beer.  When it came to his table, he looked up in surprise at the pretty blonde who had delivered it.</p><p>"Hi, Uncle Mattie," Oregon said, sitting down to table.  "This is a nice little place, isn't it?  Where's Daddy and Papa?"</p><p>"Darts," he gestured.  "Did you get here with America?  I thought you were in Liverpool."</p><p>Oregon smiled wryly.  "We <em>were,</em> until Katie pulled a prank on the Major."</p><p>Canada looked around quickly.  "Where <em>is</em> your sister?"</p><p>Oregon's smile faltered.  "She's with Finland, I guess.  Denmark said he'd bring her over tonight.  I almost forgot, you know.  That Finland is her dad."  She played with her glass and seemed reluctant to talk about the looming task at hand.  But it took up all the space between drinks, and they were forced to acknowledge it.  "I've never done anything like this before," Oregon said softly.  "Katie and I were so little the last time that Daddy made us stay behind."  She smirked.  "Well, made <em>me,</em> anyway.  Katie didn't exactly listen."</p><p>"No," Canada shook his head.  "She never does."</p><p>Oregon bit her lip.  "She's never talked about it," she began.  "But...well, what's it like?  On a charge like that?"</p><p>"I don't know," Canada replied, his voice hushed.  "That was <em>nothing</em> compared to what we're doing tomorrow."</p><p>Oregon wet her lips and put her hands over his.  They were both trembling just enough to betray their nerves.  "If we don't make it tomorrow then it's over," she said, "isn't it?"</p><p>"Yes," Canada murmured, "I'm afraid so."</p><p>She lifted her chin.  "Then not making it is not an option," she declared.  "We <em>have</em> to win."  Her trembling hands squeezed his trembling hands, and something within him broke.  Tears welled in his eyes and spilled over, splashing on his glasses.  Why was this happening <em>again?</em>  She had <em>no</em> business being here, he mourned to himself.  She should be home, among the flowers and wildlife that were so abundant in her lands.  She was still only a child.  "We'll be okay, Uncle Mattie," Oregon said, even though her voice shook.  "We have to rescue France.  Daddy promised."</p><p>Canada let out a deep breath.  "Yes," he agreed, "we must be there for Papa.  And I'm glad you're here, Daria.  You're a good girl."  They sat there in silence,  their beers ignored.  He thought of her innocence and how it was so very out of place in a time like this.  But looking into her eyes he didn't see the same weary hopelessness as everyone else had.  He saw optimism and courage.  She was scared, but she was steadfast.  He reached out and brushed her hair out of her eyes.  During the years of the Great Depression she had finally grown up to catch up with Washington; they both had thrived during that terrible time thanks to Washington's ports, and she had become a lovely young woman who was fond of blackberry pie on warm summer afternoons and Earl Grey in the morning year round.  She was kind and considerate and had not lost her ladylike mannerisms.  He knew that if he had a daughter he would appreciate one like Oregon. </p><p>"Let's  go for a walk," Oregon suggested as the darts game began to get violent.  "I love my parents and all, but I'm not in the mood for their messes right now."</p><p>He couldn't agree more.  As they walked out into the drizzle, he squinted up at the sky.  "It's different than the last time you were here, hmm?"</p><p>Oregon widened her eyes.  "I'll say!  I almost didn't recognize London, Uncle Mattie.  How <em>awful! </em> I'm so glad Kate and I are far away."  Her face flushed.  "I guess that sounds pretty terrible and selfish, doesn't it?"</p><p>Canada squeezed her hand.  "It's all right, Daria.  We <em>are</em> lucky to be so far away.  But it doesn't make us completely safe, does it?"</p><p>She shook her head.  "I have to say, I wasn't expecting Japan to do anything.  Kate was always accusing him of being up to no good, but he was always so polite to me."</p><p>"Well, she punched him pretty hard there out on Midway," Canada said.  "I was expecting the worst.  Even Al was surprised when she beat the shit out of him."</p><p>Oregon hunched her shoulders against the rain.  "She hasn't let up on that...<em>thing</em> she's making, either.  Daddy wants to use it on Germany, but Kate said...she said she'd rather give it to Japan.  Something about unintended consequences in the rest of Europe.  I don't know," she sighed.  "Uncle Mattie, I'm scared."</p><p>"Of tomorrow?"</p><p>She shrugged, then shook her head.  "No, I guess tomorrow is going to happen whether or not we're afraid, and everything depends on it.  I'm scared of what comes next.  Germany is only one.  What about Japan?  If Germany goes down then Japan is doomed too, right?  Daddy said that Germany is pretty much supporting all the war efforts on their side.  Nobody else can afford it.  It really hurt Japan when Katie cut off trade with him.  God, she did it so <em>fast</em>.  Almost the very minute he hit Daddy.  Uncle Mattie, she put all those people in prison camps even though they were born here!  Then she bullied Daddy into making it a law so we <em>all</em> had to do it.  I don't like being mean like that, Uncle Mattie."</p><p>"Sometimes it's necessary in order to protect yourself, Daria," Canada said gently.  They stopped and looked out over the wharf towards the south.  Towards France.  "I know you're not a cruel woman, sweetheart.  You've always been kind.  You and Kate have very different souls, you have to remember.  She's not exactly cruel, but she's not like you."</p><p>"No," Oregon agreed, "she isn't like me.  Or <em>any</em> of us. Why?"</p><p>"Well, that's not quite true, love," Canada said.  "Your papa will tell you.  I can tell you.  You, for instance, are the very heart of your people--you are their beginning and their end.  You had settlers and became a state long before your sister, so it would make sense to think that you are older.  But actually, that's not true."</p><p>"Impossible," Oregon murmured.  "How?  What do you mean?"</p><p>"When something happens to your people, you feel it, don't you?  When the people suffer, so do you.  And vice versa.  Remember when you caught smallpox?  And all those people died?"</p><p>Oregon frowned.  "Kate never got it.  She never got the smallpox even though we were together all the time."</p><p>"But her people still became ill," Canada reminded her.  "Daria, while you represent the <em>people</em> living in the Northwest, your sister represents the <em>land</em>.  If the people disappeared, you would also disappear.  But Kate will be here long after the last man takes his last breath.  And that is a very lonely thing."  He smiled sadly.  "But it is not an <em>unusual</em> thing, Daria.  There are others just like her.  North Italy is the Italian people, and his brother South Italy is the land.  Germany and Prussia have the very same relationship.  Germany is the people and Prussia is the land.  Sweden, Norway and Iceland represent the Nordic people, and Denmark represents the land.  I'm almost certain that Finland also represents the land, but that Russia is both land and people.  Hence his treachery, which cannot be helped.  Look, this is why Kate has no natural empathy for her people.  Al has had to work very hard to instill it in her, and it's been a struggle.  It isn't that she doesn't love them.  I mean...she probably doesn't, but it's because she doesn't know how."</p><p>Oregon looked away from the water and into his eyes.  "Does she know all this?"</p><p>"Yes," Canada replied.  "Denmark helped explain it to her after the last Seattle fire."</p><p>"But <em>I'm</em> the people, and <em>she's</em> the land," Oregon said, softly.  "I...I guess I knew that.  I always have known.  I just didn't understand."</p><p>"It isn't easy to understand," Canada said, gently.</p><p>"Maybe that's why," Oregon said slowly.  "Uncle Mattie, I think that might be why Daddy is so afraid of--well, not exactly <em>afraid</em> of her, but...Kate has always been able to get her way with him.  Maybe because he knows that she could--but she <em>wouldn't,"</em> she corrected herself before she could say it aloud.  But Canada heard it just as clearly as if she had.  America had a deep-down fear that Washington would rebel against him, as contrary as she was, and destroy him by taking out the entire West Coast with some kind of natural disaster.  Canada couldn't very well say that the idea had never occurred to him.  Once, Washington had been so annoyed with America that he had installed warning systems all over the Northwest for tsunami waves.  But she had calmed down eventually and nothing had happened. </p><p>"Do you think we'll make it, Uncle Mattie?"</p><p>He reached out and took her hand.  "I don't know." </p><p>Oregon pressed her lips together and quickly looked away before he could see she was crying, but he noticed anyways.  "Daria, one way or another, we will be okay.  Look, tomorrow is almost here.  Go get some sleep, buttercup," he added, using his old pet name for her, "because you're going to need it."</p><p>"What about you?"</p><p>He shrugged.  "I'll wait up for your sister, okay?  Don't worry."  He watched as she made her way back to town, then turned back to the wharf.  Just as he did, the small boat carrying Washington came into port.  From the speed of things, Denmark had let her pilot.  Washington was not allowed a driving licence because of her lead foot, but nobody could keep her off the sea.  Denmark could never tell her no, especially when she looked at him with her enormous grey eyes and one of her rare smiles ghosting across her face.  And Washington, knowing that he could never resist her, always asked for the keys.</p><p>Canada watched as the motor cut and the onboard light went out.</p><p>Not one but two figures disembarked.    </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Southampton/ Washington</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Canada catches a glimpse of the future.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At first, because it was dark, Canada wasn't sure if it was Washington standing with Denmark.  It was possible that they were two ordinary citizens out for a stroll after a short sea voyage, and not his niece and his ally who were absolutely <em>not</em> supposed to be holding hands like these two people.  </p><p>Except ordinary citizens weren't taking sea voyages these days, short or otherwise. </p><p>No, it was definitely Washington and Denmark.  They weren't coming any nearer yet, and they were speaking so quietly that he almost couldn't hear what they were saying.  But his superior hearing--perfectly attuned to the low pitch of Washington's voice, for whatever reason--caught everything that they said, and he was sorry.</p><p>"You shouldn't be here, little one."  Canada smiled.  Even now Denmark called her that.  "You will see terrible things tomorrow." </p><p>"I've already seen terrible things, Mathias," she replied, and Canada knew from her tone that she indeed had.  "I <em>have</em> to do this.  My sister is here and she's going to need me."</p><p>"Sve said you could stay with him, søde.  Please don't put yourself in danger just to be a hero."</p><p>She gave a strange, coughing laugh.  "I'm no hero, min kæreste.  I'm doing this because if I don't, what will happen to <em>you? </em> You're hurt."  She brought her hand up to his bandaged head.  "I'll repay the favor to him."</p><p>"He's strong, elskede.  You don't know him.  I thought I could trust him,"  Denmark admitted. </p><p>"That was foolish of you," she admonished.  "And he is not <em>that</em> strong.  You'll see."</p><p>Denmark let out a strangled sob and brought his forehead to hers.  For their kind, it was an incredibly intimate gesture; it was as intimate as kissing.  Canada watched them sway gently together to some secret, internal beat.  As he watched, he became aware that he was holding his breath.  She put her arms around Denmark and he shamelessly buried his face in her neck.  She waited patiently until he calmed down and spoke again, quietly, earnestly.  "I'm not afraid."</p><p>Canada briefly closed his eyes, feeling a white-hot poker twist in his chest, searing his heart.  The thing that had broken inside him as he and Oregon comforted each other now shattered into a million pieces.  He took a deep, shaking breath and turned away, deeply affected by the blatant display of emotion before him.  Oregon had often teased her sister about marrying Denmark, especially when they were younger, because even when she was just a little one, Washington and Denmark had an affinity that was honestly quite strong.  Most of her earliest settlers were Danes, followed by Finns and Germans.  But the Danes had been first, and had established themselves long before America took responsibility for her. </p><p>Canada had just seen nothing but pure, unadulterated love between two very old friends, and it both warmed his heart and broke it. </p><p>He glanced around, wondering at the sudden silence, and blushed slightly at the sight of the two of them kissing goodbye--Denmark had to return immediately to Copenhagen.  The kissing was <em>definitely</em> new, Canada thought.  They'd been sneaking little pecks here and there when America wasn't looking and held hands every chance they got--one of the most hilarious things Canada had ever seen was when the Nordics had all come to Seattle during the '20s and America, well aware of what his daughter was up to, had forced Washington and Denmark to walk in separate groups.  Well, they had both somehow managed to walk at the back of their respective groups and had locked pinky fingers across the "great void", as they called the gap between them.  America had not found it as amusing as his brother had.</p><p>Perhaps the notion of a badly pitched battle put things in a different perspective, and they both felt the need to be honest about it, Canada thought.  Washington stood still, watching Denmark shove off, and then she turned and saw Canada watching her before he could turn away. </p><p>She came to stand at his side, favoring one arm.  He had not noticed this before because of the way she had been facing, but now he wondered what was wrong with her arm.  It would be a <em>very</em> unfortunate thing if she couldn't use that arm, he thought.  "Kate, you ought to get some sleep tonight," he began, hesitantly. </p><p>"I got plenty of rest at Papa's," she replied, as he had known she would. </p><p>He paused, weighing his next words very carefully.  "You and Denmark have become rather close, haven't you?"</p><p>"Uncle Matt," Washington began, then stopped and shook her head.  "I don't think that is anyone's business but his and mine."</p><p>His voice was gentle, but firm.  "War is <em>not</em> an excuse for impulsive behavior, Kate."</p><p>Washington gave that odd, sniffing laugh again.  "That was <em>not</em> impulsive, Uncle Matt.  It took a lot of time to get to this point, so we're not joking around."</p><p>He regarded her silently for a few moments.  "So you <em>haven't</em> already slept with Denmark?"</p><p>She looked at him with a sly little smile.  "Uncle Matt, you might not believe it, but he's not like that.  Only if Pop says it's okay, and he hasn't even asked him yet.  C'mon now.  I barely know how to <em>kiss</em>."</p><p>"Oh bull<em>shit</em>," Canada laughed despite himself.  "I saw you just now."</p><p>Washington hummed softly and lit a cigarette.  Canada smelled the sharpness of cloves.  "So what are you doing out here?  At midnight?" She smiled around her smoke and he saw for the first time how sorrowful she really looked at that moment.  Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were not. </p><p>"Waiting for you," he replied.  "I thought you might want to talk."</p><p>"It's getting kinda late for talking, Uncle Matt," Washington said, quietly.  "We deploy in less than two hours."</p><p>"Kate," he blurted suddenly, because he couldn't help but try to warn her.  "Maybe you should listen to Denmark.  Go stay with Sweden!  America will understand.  Neither <em>one</em> of you girls should be here.  Why did you come?"</p><p>She spoke from between clenched teeth.  "I am <em>not</em> going to Sweden!   What do you think I am...a fucking coward?  You don't think I can do this?  <em>Fuck</em> you, then!"  Angrily she turned away, and Canada was sorry.  He wished Oregon were here to help him navigate through this, because he was stepping into the mine field.  "Look, just go on, huh?  Don't worry about me.  I'll be at the airbase at 0130."</p><p>"Katie."</p><p>She didn't reply, but he could tell by the way she stood that she was waiting. </p><p>"I'm sorry I even suggested that you couldn't hack it," he went on.  "I just want you to be safe."</p><p>"There isn't anywhere <em>safe</em> anymore, Uncle Matt," Washington said, softly.  "The world is growing up.  That long-ago September has spawned a monster."  She finished the cigarette and stubbed it out on the heel of her boot.  "Go on, Uncle Matt.  I sort of want to be alone for a while."</p><p>Against his better judgment, he went back into town, but he didn't go into his billet.  Instead he stood quietly at the top of the little knoll and watched her.  It was almost disappointing that she didn't seem to be bottling anything in.  He would almost rather see that she was raging at the fading of the dawn.  For he was not so sure that tomorrow--today, now--would be a success. </p><p>They were so very different, his nieces.  Oregon was like the summer sun, warm and reassuring even if it might rain.  It was comforting to simply look at her sometimes.  And she was the perfect blend of the best of England and America.  No, she really didn't belong on the battlefield.  Canada worried for her not because he didn't think she was strong enough--America would not have brought her if she wasn't.  But he didn't know if she would be able to pull the trigger when faced with killing someone up close.  There was no avoiding it.  And if she hesitated, the consequences would be <em>dire</em>.  Canada didn't think Germany or Prussia were aware that not only America but all forty-eight of his states were either in Europe or preparing to make the crossing.  But if word got out about a soldier who survived a head shot--or any sort of injury--it could put everything in jeopardy.  She could be captured and tortured.  And he didn't want Oregon to <em>ever</em> lose that summertime warmth.</p><p>He stood and watched Washington as she smoked another cigarette.  She was so <em>different</em> than Oregon.  Oregon tended also to wear her heart on her sleeve, whereas sometimes you doubted whether Washington even <em>had</em> a heart.  Obviously, she did--he had borne witness to it tonight.  But it wasn't only her personality traits that were different.  Being adopted, she of course looked nothing like Oregon.  She didn't look much like Russia or Finland either, though.  And unlike Oregon, she <em>did</em> have experience in warfare, much to America's chagrin.  It had been an accident, of course.  America had not felt comfortable leaving Oregon and Washington while he went over, so he had brought them with him.  England had convinced Northern Ireland to take Oregon in, but Washington would not step foot in Belfast to save her damn <em>life,</em> so of course Denmark had offered to keep her safe.  When she found out that Germany was basically forcing some of Denmark's people to fight on his side, she had been <em>furious</em>.  Without telling him, she managed to get aboard a train to France, where in all her five-year-old looking glory she had fatally tricked Hungary.  Canada had been present but had not seen her until Hungary was screaming in agony with a dagger sticking out of her eye.  He had grabbed her up and run, but America found her out anyway.  They had fought back at camp, and America had finally shouted at her <em>why couldn't she be more like her sister,</em> and Washington had screamed back at America with such force that it blew out his eardrums. </p><p>"She's <em>not</em> my sister!  You stole me from my real family, and <em>I hate you!"</em>  But five minutes later they were both sorry, and she sat in his arms and drifted off to sleep like a baby. </p><p>Canada frowned thoughtfully.  Washington was standing in a very relaxed manner, as if standing on the brink of a broken world was something she did every day.  Watching her like this, it was easy for him to imagine a thousand tomorrows.  In those tomorrows he saw glimpses of a wild-haired blond child running in circles around his mother, who bore a strong resemblance to Washington.  But instead of becoming annoyed with him, as Washington undoubtedly would, she swept him up onto her shoulders and laughed up at his smiling face. </p><p>Canada blinked, and it was just Washington again, but she was watching him watch her.  Even from here he could see the sorrow on her face.  He wished desperately that she would come to him for comfort, because she was clearly hurting.  But it was not her way.  They stared at each other in silence for several moments, and finally, as she had to, she turned away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Juno/Canada</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As they cross the English Channel, Canada realises his nieces are no longer children.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The prayer for good weather had been answered, but Canada would have rather that they had prayed for calmer seas.</p><p>Some of the guys on the landing craft had their sea legs, but quite a few were vomiting into the sea.  Canada wasn't seasick, but he remembered how it felt, and he knew all the men were feeling nervous.  Any moment and they would be within firing range of Germany's massive shore batteries.  And Canada knew what else awaited them.  Tucked up along the upper beaches were hidden nests of gunners.  If they made it ashore, provided they didn't step on any mines, it would <em>not</em> be a walk in the park.</p><p>"Uncle Matt," Washington murmured against his ear.  "You gotta help me get up in those things.  <em>He's</em> there somewhere.  That <em>bastard</em> who hurt Denmark."</p><p>Startled, Canada looked around for America, but of course he wasn't here.  He had parachuted in hours before, as she ought to have.  "Kate, what the hell are you <em>doing</em> here?  You should be with Amer--Alfred."</p><p>"We talked it over," she shrugged, "and Daria and I decided we'd split up.  She did the jump into Ste. Mère Église with California and I'll go with you.  Juno all the way, baby." </p><p>"Kate, <em>no,"</em> he muttered, but she couldn't just get out and swim.  And there would be no way for him to get her over to Omaha without seriously jeopardizing his own objective.  </p><p>The boat dipped and swelled with the violent water.  A boy standing next to Washington vomited enthusiastically into his helmet.  "Oh, shit," she said.  Just then, they hit the shallows, and Canada heard the unmistakable sound of Germany's MG 42s.  Before he realised what she was doing, she had whipped off her helmet and jammed it on the kid's head.  A split second later a bullet embedded itself into the front of the helmet. </p><p>"Whoa, man," the kid gasped.  "You just saved my life!"</p><p>"You can thank me by getting me up into those motherfucking Kraut gun nests," Washington shouted.  The shore guns roared out and Canada shoved Washington's head down, but it was too late.  It was time to go ashore.  The gate lowered and they charged into the surf.  Weighed down by gear, the kid began to sink.  As bullets sliced into the water around them, Washington pulled free of Canada and turned back, diving down to pull the drowning soldier up to the surface.  As she did, she swatted bullets away from them as though they were flies, but one of them struck her in the shoulder.  Annoyed, she pushed through the water and they dragged ashore. </p><p>"Come on," she urged the kid, "we gotta get up the beach!  Uncle Matt!  Goddamn it, <em>cover me!"</em></p><p>"Kate, get a fucking helmet on as soon as you find one," Canada roared after her.  If she went and got her fucking head blown off, America would never forgive him.</p><p>The water was red.</p><p>The sand was red. </p><p>Everyone around him was screaming. </p><p>He could see Washington and her partner further up the beach, slowly but surely making their way to the bluffs.  She <em>still</em> didn't have a goddamn helmet on, he thought.  If nobody had noticed that there was a woman among them by now, they would <em>definitely</em> notice by the time they rendezvoused.  </p><p>Time slowed.  All sensation of sight and sound became scratched vinyl and shattered panes; color was washed from his  view.  Everything seemed to move in stop motion; light flickering, voices muffled.  Was it real?  Did any of it make any sense at all?</p><p>Did it matter?  In the end, what would even be relevant?</p><p>The kid at Washington's side managed to clear out a nest, but before she could reach him, she nearly ran right into a screaming pile of guts.  As if he were watching a nightmare, Canada couldn't look away as Washington reached down and pulled the helmet from the man's head.  As she put it on her own, she calmly took her revolver and knelt down to cradle the man's head.  Holding him tightly, she shot the screaming man at point blank range.  Among the screams of agony, Canada clearly heard him shriek for his mother.  After the single gunshot, he was finally dead.</p><p>Something struck him from behind, and he turned to see a kid from Yellowknife hit the sand.  The lower part of his leg was hanging on by a flap of skin only a few inches wide.  Screaming, the boy writhed in the sand.</p><p>"Mama!  Mama please no!  Where's my leg?  I want my mama!"</p><p><em>"Move! </em> I got im," Washington's boy was there, with a blessed med kit.  The kid's screaming rose in pitch.</p><p>
  <em>"Mama!  I want to go home!  Please!  Mama!"</em>
</p><p>Working rapidly, the medic tied the leg off and gave the grateful lad a shot of morphine.  The screams slowed and became sleepy murmurs.  "I gotcha, man," the Corpsman said, patting the boy on the arm.  "You gonna be all right.  Getcha patched up and you'll be as good as new."</p><p>The delirious kid from Yellowknife gave them both a drunken thumbs up. </p><p>"You're a field medic?" Canada screamed.  "What the hell are you doing taking out machine gunners?  Jesus H," he shook his head.</p><p>"That one up there, I don't give a fucking <em>shit</em> what she doing here, but she saved my worthless ass and I appreciate that," the medic said.  "And I did what she needed.  She up in there now.  Uh...no offence, but do Americans always call the Germans "Herr Deutschland"?  Because that's fucking weird--" They ducked as a shell exploded nearby.  </p><p>"No," Canada breathed, feeling himself moving forward.  He was <em>here. </em> Germany was <em>here,</em> the fool.  And if he didn't stop it, Germany would be meeting <em>not</em> America, as he had expected, but his <em>very</em> angry and quite possibly <em>insane</em> daughter.  He caught sight of her scrambling up, pushing and pulling those unfortunate enough to encounter her off the bluff.  She just let them fall, not bothering to waste ammunition when the fall alone was fatal. </p><p>As Canada neared the bottom of the bluff, the screams of his men had finally alerted Germany to the fact that something was wrong.  Canada saw that Washington was without a helmet again, but there was nothing he could do and as Germany stepped out into the small doorway, he saw her and froze.</p><p>Confused, he looked from her to Canada, but he still didn't understand.  A flash of movement from behind Germany got Canada moving. </p><p>"Kate!  <em>Don't!"</em> he shouted, but she was beyond him.  As Germany quickly and coldly reloaded his weapon, she charged him.</p><p><em>"Yoooooouuuuu,"</em> she bellowed, raging towards him.  Before he could level his rifle at her she reached him, but instead of shooting him, she swung on him and slammed the stock of her rifle directly into his face, shattering the side of his jaw.  He went down, and went down <em>hard.</em>  Without waiting, she was on him.  </p><p>"I'll kill you," she raged, wrapping her hands around his corded neck.  "I'll <em>kill</em> you!"</p><p><em>"Kate!"</em> Canada screamed.  "Stop at <em>once!  Stop!"</em></p><p>Panting, she twisted around and glared at him.  "This little shit is going to <em>pay,"</em> she hissed.  </p><p>"Not that way," Canada said firmly, pulling her to her feet.  <em>"No</em>.  Not that way.  Help him up."</p><p>Washington's eyes became hellish slits.  "I will <em>not."</em></p><p>Germany finally managed to roll onto his side so he could vomit.  Washington turned back to him and kicked him viciously in the chest.  "Fuck you, Germany."</p><p>"Kate Braginskaya," Canada bellowed.  "Do <em>not</em> abuse him any more.  Don't you <em>dare! </em> Or I'll get you off this beach and shipped back home," he threatened. </p><p>She shot Germany another hateful look.  "Fuck him, Uncle Matt.  I let this miserable fuck settle me!  And now there are too many of them to get rid of."  She paused.  "Well, not really.  I coul--"</p><p>"Shut <em>up,</em> Kate," Canada pleaded, his eyes desperately scanning the trees behind the bunker.  He didn't see the flash of movement again, but he knew who it was.  "Be <em>quiet</em>.  Help him up.  Now."</p><p>Washington scowled, but did as she was told.  But as she hauled Germany to his feet, she had to lay aside her rifle, and no sooner than she had, it was jammed against the side of her head. </p><p>"I think that's <em>quite</em> enough of this shit," a hoarse voice said, in very good English.  Canada closed his eyes as he slowly turned to face Prussia.  The older of the two German Brothers held Washington's own weapon to her head.  She stared at Canada, her face devoid of expression, but her eyes ripped into him, over and over. </p><p>Prussia pushed the muzzle of the rifle hard against her skull, forcing her to let go of his brother.  But she let go with a rough push, sending Germany into the wall.</p><p><em>"Who are you?"</em> Prussia screamed, striking her with the rifle.  She barely flinched; Canada shook his head slightly at her and Prussia saw his movement.  "One more trick like that and I'll break <em>your</em> face, Canada.  I always thought you were so <em>polite,</em> but look what you've done!"  As he spoke he bound Washington's hands as if it were the easiest thing in the world.  To Canada's surprise she wasn't struggling.  It wasn't until they were being marched out to a truck that he understood why she was so calm.  Prussia shoved them both into the back, where Washington immediately shrugged out of the ropes.</p><p>"That guy cannot tie for <em>shit,"</em> she said, sneering.  "I could tell right away."  She paused.  "Well, <em>one</em> of us should remain tied, I guess.  I mean--I'll untie you if you want, but--"</p><p>"No," Canada whispered, wishing she would shut up.  He knew Denmark had taught her every single knot in existence over the years.  It was one of the ways he had kept her occupied as a little one when he was first getting to know her.</p><p>"Where are they taking us?" she demanded, ripping a slit in the canvas screen.  </p><p>"Don't <em>do</em> that kind of thing, Kate!" Canada exclaimed, pulling her hand away.  "I don't want them finding out who you are!  They don't <em>remember</em> you.  Kate, even though they're in your lands<em> they don't know who you are!"</em></p><p>"Of course they don't," Washington murmured, "Pop didn't want Prussia near me in the first fucking place.  Only because they're old friends he let them come over."  Her eyes locked on his.  "We're stopping."</p><p>"Are you ready?" Canada asked, softly.  He knew <em>exactly</em> what was in store for her.  There would be no preventing Prussia from discovering who she was, and Canada knew that once he did, she was doomed.  He wanted nothing more than to grab her up and run away.  But neither of them moved.</p><p>"I'm <em>always</em> ready," she replied. </p><p>"I love you," he said as the back of the truck dropped open.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Normandy/Prussia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prussia suffers a fatal lapse in judgment.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Canada and the red-haired girl were the last to be ordered off the truck.  As the prisoners jumped out, one after another, Prussia could hear her take Canada through the steps of tying a loose bowline hitch around her hands.  </p><p>"I can't believe Denmark taught you all these damn knots, girl," he heard Canada mutter under his breath.  "He must really love you to have this kind of patience."</p><p>"He does."</p><p>Prussia felt his lips curl away from his teeth in a snarl.  <em>Denmark,</em> he thought.  That Viking son of a bitch had stolen from him the little one that <em>he</em> had wanted.  He had stolen her from him--and now he would <em>pay</em>.</p><p>There was a beat of silence, and then Prussia cleared his throat.</p><p>"Quick, get back in those ropes," she hissed.</p><p>Prussia appeared at the opening, staring in at them.  "Out.  <em>Now."</em></p><p>The girl gave Canada an oddly smug look as she jumped down, nudging Prussia hard with her shoulder.  "Whoops, I <em>tripped,"</em> she remarked, as he shoved her away from him.  Canada was then pulled out, just in case he tried anything sneaky.  Prussia wouldn't put it past him, if he was spending time with <em>this</em> little menace.</p><p>Well, he would change that.</p><p>"I am sure you're all <em>very</em> curious as to why I've brought you all here," Prussia announced.  "Let me start off by congratulating you.  Excellent attempt at stopping destiny."  He cackled.  "I <em>was</em> going to just let you all go.  But it would seem that we have a <em>troublemaker</em> in our midst."</p><p>Canada went white.  Prussia smiled.</p><p>"Our little <em>friend</em> here, our nice little friend and comrade, has decided to defy me," Prussia went on, stopping in front of the redhead.  He paused and relished the fear and tension emanating from the exhausted soldiers.  It radiated from their very souls.  They were all afraid.</p><p>Well, maybe not <em>all</em> of them.</p><p>The girl stared at him flatly.</p><p>He frowned.</p><p>She tilted her head slightly, seeming to study him.  He did not appreciate her scrutiny in the <em>least</em>.</p><p>In fury, he reached out and yanked her around by her arm, revealing her unbound hands.</p><p>"Very clever, aren't we?" Prussia hissed. <em> "So! </em> I'm afraid there has been a change of plans.  You are no longer being released here.  You are going to line up in front of these pretty trees and be shot."  He paused.  "Except for you two," he added, glaring at Canada.  "I have <em>plans</em> for the two of you."</p><p>"You were <em>never</em> going to let these men go," Canada said hoarsely.</p><p>Prussia raised his eyebrows, unable to look away from the redhead's oddly magnetic stare.</p><p>"Perhaps not," he said.  "Only now, <em>you're</em> going to choose.  Who gets to go first?"</p><p>"Gilbert, don't give her that choice!  You don't understand what she is," Canada gasped, much to Prussia's surprise.  He had not expected Canada to say anything, yet here he was doing all the talking.</p><p>Sneering, Prussia took the loaded machine gun and shoved it into her hands.  "Shoot me and you'll be in for an unpleasant surprise," he warned.  "I don't care <em>what</em> you are."  He had heard her call Canada 'Uncle Matt', which meant she was still Amerika's.  It was unfortunate, because he admired Amerika, and this girl was beautiful in a way that he had not expected from Alfred.</p><p>He couldn't remember who her sires were, but she wasn't Amerika's offspring.  Alfred had adopted her--that was what he <em>said</em>, anyway.  It was more like he had <em>stolen</em> her, according to reliable sources.  But <em>who? </em> Why couldn't he <em>remember? </em> It <em>certainly</em> wasn't France or England.  Not even Spain.  No, there was something infinitely more exotic about her.</p><p>A strange feeling of unease crept into him as he watched her with his gun.  She handled the weapon as if it was part of her arm.  Amerika had taught her well, he thought, but then paused, slightly confused. Something about the way she sighted the gun reminded him of someone else.  Then, before it came to him, she muttered, "Se on vino."</p><p>He gasped.  <em>Finnish!</em> </p><p>Oh dear fucking God, she was <em>Finland's</em>.</p><p>Finland's...and who else?</p><p>She straightened, and roughly jammed the gun into his hands.  "The sight is off.  Might as well just shoot em all at once."  Prussia felt his guts twist.  He had not expected to hear her say <em>that</em>.  Suddenly he feared that things were beginning to go downhill.</p><p>Fast.</p><p>Then he realised that she was staring at him and he quickly came back to himself.  "Wha--what?"</p><p>"Fuck em.  Just mow em down right here.  I don't care."  Her eyes nailed him in place.  And that stare, the complete and utter emptiness of it, reminded him of yet another, but he just couldn't remember exactly who.  "One at a time, all at once--I don't give a fuck.  Whatever takes less ammo.  They're expendable," she shrugged.  "Bullets aren't."</p><p>For a moment Prussia struggled with himself.  Part of him wanted to burst out laughing at the irony, but another part of him wanted to run for his life.  She was <em>wrong</em>.  Something about her was deeply and <em>irreparably</em> fucked up.  Frustrated, he turned to his aide and handed him the rifle.  The kid was still green, and nearly dropped it.  It discharged, a single round striking Amerika's bratling in the forearm.  She stumbled back, then calmly flexed her arm, working the bullet out of the wound.  It dropped harmlessly to the ground, and she looked up at him and smiled.</p><p>
  <em>The smile.</em>
</p><p>And then she spoke.  Her voice was oddly playful.  The smile and the voice and it hit him like a ton of bricks.</p><p>"Oh, look."</p><p><em>Russia</em>.</p><p>"That's one."</p><p>He stared at her, unable to make a sound.</p><p>What happened next was like a nightmare of epic proportions.  Without warning Canada lunged forward, knocking the young aide to the ground and taking the gun from him.  Holding it at Prussia's head, he roared at the men, "Go!  <em>Now!"</em></p><p>Enraged, Prussia seized the girl's long red braid in his hand and wrapped it around his hand until he had her nearly in a headlock.  Without a word he unsheathed the dagger at his belt, holding it to her throat.  Canada froze, but he didn't lower the rifle.  Prussia pressed the blade against her skin.</p><p>"Another move and I cut her throat," he said, calmly.</p><p>"Kill him," the girl growled out.  It was very difficult for him to hold onto her.  She wasn't struggling; his grip was too strong for that, but he kept feeling sharp bursts of cracking pain.  They seemed to be coming from <em>her</em>.  And something else, something that he had not expected.</p><p>She was untouched and unspoiled.</p><p>Could she be saving herself for Denmark?</p><p>He felt a savage grin form on his face.  Oh <em>really</em>...</p><p>His grip on her tightened and she hissed.  "Kill him!  <em>Do</em> it, Uncle Matt!"</p><p>Prussia released her then, shoving her violently to the ground, and turned back to Canada.  They circled each other and then both darted in at once.  But before Prussia could stab his nemesis, he was tackled to the ground and pinned.</p><p><em>"Run!"</em> the girl bellowed, her voice nearly bursting his eardrums.  "Uncle Matt, don't fuck...around!"  She slammed Prussia's head into her knee, but he tore away from her and punched her hard in the face.  Part of him realised that Canada was getting away, but he had other things to worry about, such as all those soldiers who were now loose in the forest around them.</p><p>
  <em>The forest.</em>
</p><p>Flipping her over onto her stomach, he grasped her by her hair again and pulled viciously.  "On your feet, little one.  Move."</p><p>"Fuck you," she panted hoarsely, blood streaming from her nose.  He laughed.</p><p>"Oh, you're <em>going</em> to."</p><p>She fought him viciously.  It would have been <em>one</em> thing if she were like an ordinary woman and only tried to claw his face, but she knew how to fight.  She kept fairly silent, knowing that the noise would alert his comrades, and put up an <em>impressive</em> struggle to maintain her virtue.  She reminded him of a fighting tom cat, growling and writhing, kicking and hitting.  Finally, after she had head-butted him, he'd had enough.  Pinning her to the ground, he tore into her, feeling her break open at his thrust.  He closed his eyes and moaned in bliss, relishing his victory over Denmark.  He had won.  She was <em>his</em>.</p><p>She screamed out then, not so much in pain than in rage, and he took a log and smashed it into her head, stunning her but not knocking her out.  He went to work on her, forcing her to meet his gaze.  She stared into his eyes, seeming to mark him.  He gripped her tightly, thrusting into her and feeling the delicious friction of her around his cock.  <em>She is impressive,</em> he thought.  Even as she glared at him he could feel her trembling.  She was trying not to enjoy it, he thought smugly.  She struggled against him, frantically trying to keep from feeling him.  But her body was reacting despite her reluctance, and she began to tighten around him.</p><p>He thought about marking her, but it was too late--she was so tight and resistant that he had to finish.  She lay still beneath him, tense and waiting.  But there was no way in <em>hell</em> that he was going to have her just lie there like a dead woman.  He wanted to make her scream, <em>really</em> scream.</p><p>As he shifted, she let out a gasp and her body arched.  Sweet Fritz, she was <em>awesome</em>.  She bit down on his shoulder, muffling a cry that came from somewhere deep within her.  Her arms, which had been taut at her sides, flew up and her hands clawed up the back of his shirt, her short fingernails still managing to tear his skin.  Jesus, she was <em>strong</em>.  Amerika would do well to be careful with her.  Unable to help himself he brought his mouth down onto hers, tasting rain and the sea and the deep green of a forest even older than this one.  As his tongue rolled against hers, he felt her resistance falter just a bit and her body relaxed.  Her hands curled into his hair--just for a moment.  He could feel the searing heat of molten earth, the sharp bite of glaciers.  A land of fire and ice.</p><p>She tore her lips away.</p><p>"You'll be sorry," she hissed in his ear, but he didn't care.  He saw blinding silver as he slammed himself into her, coming so hard that his ears popped.  He kissed her one last time, and they lay there panting roughly.  He had an absurd urge to pet her hair.</p><p>"I <em>hate</em> you," she whispered, struggling beneath him.  He tightened his grip and she hissed.  "You are going to <em>pay."</em></p><p>"Quiet," he murmured against her neck.  Her pulse thundered angrily beneath his lips.</p><p>"I'll kill you," she went on, not listening.</p><p>He tightened his grip on her even more, and she froze.  When she started to say something he put a finger to her mouth. <em> "Shut up,</em> or I'll do it again."</p><p>Her eyes blazed.  "I <em>hate</em> you," she hissed one final time.</p><p>He sighed.  His head was beginning to hurt.  It felt curiously like tendrils of static were snaking into his brain, invading the secret places.  They had to get out of here, he knew.  His aide would be panicking, and he didn't want anyone to know what he had just done.</p><p>"Get up," he ordered, tossing his coat at her.  "Get out of here before my men show up.  If they see you like this I'll have to kill them."</p><p>She didn't need to be told twice.  She sent him one final, venomous glare before fleeing.  His head pounded.</p><p>Amerika would be coming after him soon, he knew. Especially now.</p><p>And not only Amerika.  Her sires would know that she had been taken.  Maybe they wouldn't know exactly what had happened, but they would figure it out if they saw her.  This could be a problem, he knew; Finland and Russia were <em>not</em> to be underestimated.  Now that he knew who she was, he had better be careful, he thought.</p><p>Except...</p><p>Except maybe there was a way to use this little situation to his advantage.</p><p>Prussia smiled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Ste. Mère Église/Oregon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Oregon must land in occupied German territory during the invasion of Normandy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hail Mary full of Grace, blessed are thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus..."</p><p>Oregon kept her eyes firmly on the flight commander, who was waiting for the signal to open the doors.  In the predawn darkness, descending through the patchy clouds, the plane was filled with the sound of praying men.</p><p>"Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now at the hour of our death, Amen."</p><p>"Ya nervous?" a young kid from New York shouted.  His uniform shirt bore the name <em>Ruitenbeek. </em> "I'm not gonna lie, I ain't got no spit!"</p><p>Oregon grinned.  "Tell you what, I'll take you for a drink once we get all our ducks in a row!"  She checked her gear for the forty-third time.  All in order.  "You ready?"</p><p>Ruitenbeek laughed.  "Like hell!  Here goes nothin!"</p><p>"Yeah," Oregon said, "here goes nothin."  The hold slid open and they got in formation.  As they counted off Oregon's entire body began to throb with her heartbeat.  The night was so dark, full of unspoken things. </p><p>Now they could see the village, and it was on fire.</p><p>"Get ready!  <em>Go!  Go!  Go!"</em></p><p>Ruitenbeek slapped Oregon on the back and gave her a thumbs up.  They jumped nearly at once, and Oregon's mind went immediately into automatic, as she deployed her parachute to begin her drop.</p><p>"Shit!"  She realized too late that she was drifting right over the clamoring church.  Desperately she struggled to shift to the left, but it was too late.  She cleared the roof, but her parachute caught on the left pinnacle of spire and snagged it.</p><p>"<em>Fuck!"</em>  She slammed against the window of the church, stunning her just for a second.  In a panic she began to try to struggle out of her harness as the men around her dropped into the waiting arms of German machine guns.  The bells rang relentlessly, deafening her.  She managed to work her dagger out of her belt and began to hack at her ropes, but fumbled and dropped it.  In horror she watched it fall, where it landed with a sharp clang at the feet of a German soldier.  At first, Oregon didn't think that he noticed.  But then he glanced down, then up, and did a double take when he saw her hanging there.</p><p>Oregon pressed herself against the church as hard as she could, hoping that he thought she was dead.  <em>This is what panic gets you,</em> she berated herself.  He raised his weapon and fired a short burst at her, the gun's dreadful characteristic ripping sound completely drowned out by the church bells in her ears.  One of the rounds grazed her foot, but she didn't dare move or make a sound.  Around her, below her, the village burned.  It was like falling into hell.</p><p>Men were dying screaming, chopped up by the guns.  Oregon closed her eyes briefly, not wanting to see.  But even behind closed eyes they were still dying.  She blinked sweat from her eyes and watched as two men dropped directly into a blazing inferno, their parachutes bursting into flame.  As the building exploded, Oregon felt helpless to do anything.  Where was Ruitenbeek?  Had he made it?</p><p><em>I have to get down from here</em>, she thought.  The bells were driving her mad.  She had to meet up with America by tonight.  If there <em>was</em> a tonight.</p><p>She hoped Washington and Canada were still okay, and safe.</p><p>Carefully she began to inch herself along the wall, trying to ease up the tension on her harness.</p><p>Suddenly, she heard a long, terrible ripping sound, and her heart stopped. </p><p><em> Oh no, no, no,</em> she thought.  She absolutely <em>could not</em> fall into the guns.  She willed herself to remain completely still, realising that the only thing she could do was play dead.  She might go deaf or insane from these bells but she would live.  As she pulled into herself, the sounds around her sharpened into a single high pitched ringing.  The ringing blended in with the rhythm of her breathing and her heartbeat, and somehow she made it to the dawn, when the very Reaper himself came up and cut her down.  Even in the smoky darkness she could see his red, hellish eyes, but he was too distracted to interrogate her and shoved her off to a waiting adjutant, who took her and several others to a makeshift holding area.</p><p>"Hey," someone whispered when the Germans left them for a moment.  "<em>Oregon</em>.  Jones!"</p><p>Oregon was startled.  Ruitenbeek smiled at her.  She swallowed, but as he had mentioned in the plane, she had no spit to speak of.  "How...how'd you know..."  She meant to ask him how he <em>knew;</em> how did he know she was Oregon, but the cheerful New Yorker simply laughed.</p><p>"Well <em>ain't</em> ya from Oregon?  Says right there, just like mine says New York," he said, lifting his shoulder.  Oregon sighed, relieved.  Ruitenbeek suddenly frowned at her.</p><p>"Look, Jones, we're gettin outta here.  I dunno <em>how</em> you got up into a plane, but I'm betting they got plans for a pretty lady like you, and I don't wanna even <em>think</em> about it.  So we're gonna take off, okay?"  He glanced around quickly.  When he was satisfied that nobody else was listening, he leaned towards her.  "Listen.  That guy, the one with the red eyes, he said something funny before he went and cut'cha down.  I don't know, but he said something like 'America's brat'.  I mean, my German's not <em>awesome</em> or anything, but I'm pretty sure he said that.  I thought that they said "American" different.  Like 'Amerikanische', someth--well, <em>I</em> don't know.  I mean, weird, huh?  He knew your name, anyways.  Before he went up and cut you down."</p><p>Oregon frowned.  Could it be Prussia?  Because of Washington's insane grudge against the German Brothers, she had only met Germany once, but not Prussia.  America had to keep them far away from Washington, and since they lived together, that meant <em>she</em> was kept away from them too.  She'd found Germany to be rather pleasant, <em>and</em> very handsome.  But too bad his boss had to be utterly psychotic.</p><p>Ruitenbeek turned out to be quite the Eagle Scout.  With just what he could scrounge up around the hovel they were in, he managed to gather up things they could use as weapons.  Whenever a guard came along, they pretended to be playing cards.</p><p>"Who taught you how to <em>play</em> this crazy game?" Ruitenbeek asked, dealing another hand as the guards stared at them.  "I never heard of it before.  What's it called again?"</p><p>Oregon smiled.  "Paskahousu," she said.  "My sister taught me."</p><p>He made a face.  "Paskahousu?  What does <em>that</em> mean?  Is it Swedish?"</p><p>"It's Finnish," Oregon said.  "My sister is adopted, and her Papa is Finnish.  It means 'shit pants' ."</p><p>One of the guards, who had been listening, began to laugh.  Oregon didn't laugh, but she looked at the officer in irritated distaste.  She didn't like how he was staring at her.  But the blue of his eyes reminded her of America, and she hoped he was all right.  She thought of the men she had seen drop right into the fire, and shuddered.</p><p>"Okay," Ruitenbeek whispered when the guards went to bring the breakfast.  "We gotta make a break for it now!  <em>C'mon!" </em> They scrambled beneath a crate, waiting for the sentry to turn towards the opposite side of the yard.  Ruitenbeek dashed out, and Oregon was right behind him.  The madcap dash to hide in the hedges reminded her of the games she and Washington played in the sand dunes off Seaside.  Because Washington's beaches didn't have dunes like hers, Oregon was much better at navigating through the scrubby plants that grew on them.  She always won games of hide and seek on the dunes.  These hedges were almost exactly like those dune plants.</p><p>"Get down low," Oregon hissed to Ruitenbeek.  "The branches come up a bit and you can crawl right along."</p><p>"Jesus Fucking <em>Christ</em>, they're everywhere," he muttered.  "Goddamn Krauts."</p><p>Behind them, Oregon's superior hearing picked up the angry voices of their one-time captors, but they were already hidden in the rows and the Germans couldn't waste time looking for two escapees who were probably just going to run into more Germans.</p><p><em>"Jones!</em>  What the fuck are you <em>doing?"</em>  Ruitenbeek hissed, as she crept out of the hedge towards an unsuspecting German.  She didn't answer, but she didn't need to.  On silent feet she approached him, then took his head in her hands and twisted, breaking his neck.  Quickly she stripped him of his weapons as Ruitenbeek joined her.  For a moment he stared at the body of the German, and then he looked at her, clearly in awe. </p><p>"You just...how did you just..." he gestured, shaking his head in amazement.  Oregon ducked her head and felt her face burning.  She had forgotten that her strength was not as a human's, and she hoped he would assume that she was simply trained in martial arts.  Ruitenbeek finally laughed nervously and dragged the body off, taking the boots and helmet for himself.  He gave her the helmet.</p><p>"Better to hide your hair with," he offered, as she put the hateful thing on.  Oregon stood still for a moment, watching the sky, listening to the faint sound of gunfire.  "We'll follow the gunfire," Ruitenbeek said.  "We'll make our rendezvous yet, my girl.  Oh," he added, "sorry.  I only meant--"</p><p>Oregon waved dismissively.  "Forget about it," she said, just like America often did.  His face lit up in delight.</p><p>"You <em>sure</em> you're not from New York?" he teased.</p><p>"My dad works out of New York, and he lives there part-time," Oregon told him.  "And my brother Alexander lives on Long Island."</p><p>Grinning at her, he thrust the German's pistol into her hand.  "I knew it," he said.  "Now let's get the <em>fuck</em> on outta here."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oregon's experience in Ste. Mère Eglise is based on what happened to Pvt. John Steele, with the US 82nd Airborne.  The village had been hit by an earlier raid, and it was burning, so the church bells were rung to warn the locals and a 'bucket brigade' was formed.  Under the watchful eye of German soldiers who occupied the town, they began to try to put the fire out.  While this was happening, the Allied paratroopers made their drop, right into the waiting arms of the Germans.  Steele caught the pinnacle of the church and dangled there for hours, playing dead.  One German veteran of this battle said later that he would never forget the sight of the soldier hanging 'dead' on the church.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Normandy/Washington</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Night had finally fallen, full of dread.</p><p>Washington stayed just inside the treeline, knowing that the mist curling around her feet would keep her hidden from the enemy the moment she stepped out but not wanting to make a move until she was certain that the light she saw across the meadow was the light of a house and not some crazy Nazi playing with a flashlight.  She remained where she was as the sun rose and rolled across the sky.  She wished desperately for a cigarette, but she'd lost hers to that tosser Prussia when he'd so rudely shoved her into the truck.  He'd probably already smoked them all, she thought angrily.  But then she remembered that she had his coat.  She frowned thoughtfully and dug around in the pockets of Prussia's coat until she found the pack of cloves.  <em>Fuck yeah,</em> she thought.  <em>Take that, asshole.</em></p><p>There was also another pack of tobacco cigarettes and a photograph of the German Alps.  That was it for the pockets, but she paused, bringing her arm up and sniffing the sleeve.  His coat was saturated with his scent; it was like the spicy sweetness of anise.  She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and feeling a strange warmth wash through her.  Her hand moved to touch herself and she gasped when she felt the blood.</p><p>Her eyes flew open at the croak of a raven.  Cursing, she held her arms stiffly at her sides, feeling her fingernails punch into her palms.  <em>No</em>.  He was <em>not </em>going to have her.  Despite what he had done, she <em>refused</em> to give herself to him.  As long as she did that, he could not claim her.</p><p>Glancing around surreptitiously to make sure nobody was lurking around that could see her, she stuck one of the tobacco smokes in her mouth and flicked her fingertips together, creating a tiny flame.</p><p>The cigarette was Turkish, and probably <em>damn</em> near impossible to get, she thought.  At least the fucking shitlord had good taste.  He was probably missing the cigarettes right now.  <em>Fuck</em> him, the thieving bastard.  He had done the <em>one thing</em> that could possibly hurt.  He had <em>known</em> she was waiting for Denmark.  He had taken her knowing <em>full well</em> that she was saving herself for Mathias.  She had seen the victorious glee in his eyes as he broke her open.</p><p>Trembling with rage, she stared with narrow eyes at the steadily glowing light across the meadow.  She would have her revenge on him, and maybe his self-important little brother too, while she was at it.  Then when she got home, she would wipe out the main communities of Germans with a violent landslide or maybe a volcanic eruption.  Maybe both.</p><p><em>How do like me now, Prussia?</em> she thought, viciously stubbing out the cigarette on the heel of her boot.  <em>Boom,</em> <em>your worthless people are </em>dead<em>.</em></p><p>The light in the distance went out.</p><p>Frowning, she leaned forward, staring into the dark.  The moon was full, and lent enough light for her to see quite easily--she could see in the dark--but she couldn't tell whether the light had been turned off because it was bedtime or if someone had realised that they were being surveilled.  She shrugged out of the treeline, moving silently across the expanse.  The mist swirled around her, hiding her from unfriendly eyes--any eyes.  To her, <em>all</em> eyes were unfriendly.  Everyone kept forgetting.  Fools.</p><p>Her body ached.  Being so far from home, she couldn't recover as quickly as normal from injuries.  But <em>this</em> had been no ordinary thing Prussia had done.  She had been saving herself for Mathias for her entire life, knowing that he was the only one for her.  He had stayed steadfast and true to her all this time, and they were going to be together forever, with their little ones.  He had promised America that he would wait for her to come of age before he claimed her as his; at first, when she was still a young one, that had been easy.  But she had grown rather rapidly after the Great War, and it quickly grew difficult.  The first time he had seen her after her growth, he had been stunned.  And he had begun to look at her in a different way; a way that gave her butterflies in her stomach.</p><p>Oh, how frustrating that had been for both of them.  She had grown physically, but America <em>insisted</em> she was still too young.  And although Denmark was a gentleman to her in every way, the night before he had brought her back to Southampton, he had very nearly broken that promise.  The only thing that had stopped him was his fear of Finland and Russia finding out.  Her sires were still very protective of her.  And so, despite her begging for him to do it, he had refused; still, she brought him to her bed and they spent the night pleasuring each other in every other way.  She was sure that her isä had heard them; the next morning Finland hid a smile behind his hand when Sweden asked if they had slept well.</p><p>How she wished he had taken her.</p><p>Tears filled her eyes and she angrily blinked them away.  There would be <em>no</em> recovering from this.  He would <em>never</em> want her now.</p><p>She stood with her fists clenched, the ache between her legs only eclipsed by the ache in her heart.</p><p>In her mind's eye, she saw <em>his</em> face:  pale; sharp cheekbones that looked strong enough to cut glass; his nose, once perfect and straight, now had a slight bump from being broken; strong jaw and chin--with a dimple in it--red eyes, hair like silver snow.  <em>His face.</em>  It was forever burned into her memory and she wanted nothing but to forget it.</p><p><em>I hate you</em>, she thought.</p><p>The building in the distance became clearer as she got closer to it.  It was a house.</p><p>Dark figures hurried in and out of it, speaking rapidly in a language that wasn't German.</p><p>Frenchmen!  Fuck, she didn't speak French.  When they were little ones, Oregon had had more French settlers than she had, so she had not needed to learn.</p><p>On her silent cats feet, Washington approached the house.  Still unseen, she crept around the back, finding the door unlocked.</p><p>
  <em>"Arrêt!  Écume allemande!"</em>
</p><p>The coat.</p><p>Washington turned, not raising her hands.  The man leveled a rifle at her and fired, but she slapped the bullet away.  It thumped loudly against her palm.  Screaming, the man fired again and she stepped aside, beginning to feel very annoyed.  She wanted him to shut the fuck up before everyone and their damn dad came over to see what the problem was.  Summoned by the cries of their comrade, three others raced out of the house to come to his aid, shouting in anger at the sight of her, but before they could set upon her with torch and pitchfork, a tall, graceful figure melted out of the darkness behind them.</p><p>"Je suis desolé, mon amie," he said.  "My esteemed colleagues have not the eyes to see that you are no German."</p><p><em>Nor the brains,</em> she thought; then he stepped into the moonlight, and she found herself looking into blue eyes exactly like America's.</p><p>"Who are you?" she demanded.  He smiled, as though he had expected just that response from her.</p><p>"My name is Francis Bonnefoy, Katrina Braginskaya," he replied.  "Welcome to France."</p><p>He had shut off the light because they were being monitored by someone that they had not yet found out, he explained over coffee--<em>real</em> coffee, not the hell known as ersatz coffee.  Washington had had one sip of that nonsense and had <em>completely</em> flipped her shit, she was not ashamed to admit.  Her crewmates on the Indianapolis would forever tell stories about that one.</p><p>Washington cleared her throat.  "I think I'd better tell you.  I've been watching you since yesterday."</p><p><em>"You</em>, ma petite?  But you were supposed to be in the drop with Amérique.  I saw him this morning.  He told me you were not there at the rendezvous and he feared for you.  What happened?  What happened with the landings?"  France asked.</p><p>"They happened," Washington replied, feeling a deep shiver go through her.  She wrapped Prussia's coat tighter around her, and France looked at it in distaste.</p><p>"Where did you get that?  Why are you wearing it?" he demanded.  "I know this coat.  It belongs to Gilbert Beilschmidt."</p><p><em>Gilbert,</em> Washington thought, running the name through her mind.  That was what Uncle Matt had called him.  "My clothes are torn," she informed him.  "I'm not even wearing pants."</p><p>France's eyes sharpened with anger.  "How dare he," he hissed.  "Bâtard maléfique!  Are you hurt, chérie?  Do you need a doctor?  Bérnard, bring me clothing for her," he ordered the buffoon who had shot at her.  He then went into the small bath and drew warm water.  "Luckily, we have not had to give up our water.  Please get cleaned up.  Do you need help?"</p><p>She found that she couldn't even bring herself to remove the coat.  Without a word, France helped her undress, cursing softly when he saw the blood on her thighs.</p><p>Washington began to cry.</p><p>Immediately he moved to comfort her, but she flinched back.  <em>"No,"</em> she cried.  "Don't touch me!  I might...I might hurt you."</p><p>"Ma chat, it is all right," he assured her.  "You cannot hurt me."</p><p>She stared at him, slowly feeling herself relax.  He wasn't at all threatening, she realised.  And she felt very comfortable in his presence, even though she was completely naked and bloody.  But he was Uncle Matt's papa, after all.  And America's, she had to remind herself.  He never talked about it much because of his relationship with England.  She managed to get into the bath, but she wanted to show him.</p><p>"France," she murmured, "quick, grab my arm.  You can still feel it even if I'm not mad."</p><p>"Hm?  Qu' ç'est?" he asked, glancing down at her.  She gestured, then saw that he was looking at the fresh tattoo on her arm.  She held it out.</p><p>"Sweden did it.  He's a very good tattooist, if you want one.  He's done most of mine.  Grab my arm; I want to show you something."</p><p>He did so, and as his hand closed around her he gasped and pulled back.  "Like electric shock," he said, his voice full of wonder.</p><p>"It happens when I'm angry or upset," she explained.  "I've sent Alfred across the room before."</p><p>He watched her from beneath his eyelashes.  She could see the blue of his eyes glittering, perhaps with tears.  "You must have given him quite the unexpected fight."</p><p>She shrank down into the water.  "It didn't do much good.  He was stronger than I am."</p><p>"Ah, oui, he is," France sighed.  "But you are here now, and safe."</p><p>"Alfred never talks about you," she said, hugging herself.  She did not particularly feel like getting into it with him over his delusions of their safety.  "Uncle Matt is the one who told me that you're their papa.  I thought Sweden was Alfred's papa."</p><p>"In a way he is," France said.  "He came before me, and cared for Matthieu as well.  I came later, after the Northmen went back to their lands."</p><p>Washington ran her hands through her hair.  "They didn't leave," she informed him, gesturing for a towel.  "They only moved places."</p><p>France gently helped her out of the tub.  "Who told you this?  There is no record of a second settlement."</p><p>"No one told me.  I know."  She had to wait for the clothes, but she was not at all shy with France.  It was like being with an old friend.  France looked at Sweden's handiwork closely.  "Finland and Russia are my parents, as you know, and Finland is practically Sweden's wife there, you know?  I've known the Nordics since I was little one, long before Alfred ever came to me."  Finally able to get dressed, she put on the shirt and trousers that were both much too large for her.  France brought her a leather belt.</p><p>"We can burn the coat, ma chat," he offered.</p><p>"No," Washington said.  "I want to give it back to him myself."  She gave him one of the Turkish cigarettes and smiled as she lit them up.  "I want to tell him thank you for the smokes.</p><p>"Right before I cut his fucking throat."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Normandy/America</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>America discovers that Washington has tricked him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had never seen such carnage in such a small area before. </p><p>America had been in many battles in quite a few wars now, and he'd sincerely believed that the last one was the worst.  But now he knew the truth: wars were only going to get worse and worse.</p><p>It was D+1, and they'd finally secured the village of Ste Mère Église.  He was desperately looking for his children without trying to look desperate, and was not succeeding very well.  California finally found him, with Utah in tow.</p><p>"Dad," she said, "we've been looking <em>everywhere."</em></p><p>America turned and angrily pointed at the bodies of several paratroopers that still hung where they had gotten snagged up, and then shot and killed by the Germans.  "Cut those boys down," he bellowed at the first soldier he saw.  "What do you mean by leaving them up there like that, dammit?  Get em down.  <em>Now!"</em></p><p>"We aren't even sure if the landings happened," California went on.  </p><p>"Nobody's sure of <em>anything</em> anymore," America sighed.  "Goddammit, the whole <em>thing</em> could be a disaster."  He whirled around.  "Where is your sister?  Where's Kate?"</p><p>California and Utah looked at each other.  America scowled at them--now was absolutely <em>not</em> the time to point out that Washington <em>wasn't</em> their sister, because she was <em>adopted</em>.  They loved to point it out; Washington in turn loved to tell them she would cut her own <em>throat</em> before she would be their sister.  They saw his anger and looked very ashamed.  "We got lost," California explained.  "We thought the rendezvous was over the hill there.  So we--two of my citizens and I--went out that way.  But we passed some Germans in the dark and we realised that they were coming back in this direction, so we came back to town.  I...I saw her hanging up there," she added, gesturing to the church.  "But when we made it back here, she was gone.  There's no way she coulda climbed down, not the way she was dangling.  They musta cut her down."</p><p>America was horrified.  California and Washington didn't get along too well, but this was <em>unbelievable</em>.  "You just <em>left</em> her there?"</p><p>"What was I <em>supposed</em> to do?" California demanded.  "Stay here and get chopped up like these poor dead bastards?"</p><p>"Maria Eureka Jones, you watch your goddamn <em>mouth,"</em> America said hoarsely.  "The damn Germans have Katrina?  Is <em>that</em> what you're telling me?"</p><p>California and Utah exchanged another quick look.</p><p><em>"What,</em> goddammit?"  America shouted.  <em>"Do</em> they?  Oh, God," he moaned.  <em>Germany is doomed,</em> he thought.  But then California said something that made his blood run cold.</p><p>"Kate wasn't <em>with</em> us, Dad.  She and Daria switched places."</p><p>He felt everything slow down around him and skitter to a stop.  Even his heart stopped.  And for a horrible moment he absolutely <em>could not</em> breathe.  When he finally found his voice again, it sounded strange and brittle to him, as if it had shattered before it even left his throat.  "What do you mean, <em>'switched places'?</em>  Then where the <em>fuck</em> is Katrina?" he demanded.  He knew, though, that if Oregon was a captive of Germany or Prussia, Washington would go after her without hesitation.</p><p>"She made us swear we wouldn't tell!"  Utah said, looking as if he was about to burst into tears.  "She said she'd kick our asses if we told!"</p><p>This, America could believe, but it didn't make him feel any better.  Now he had <em>two</em> daughters to worry about.  He could only hope that Washington was safe with his brother.  She and Canada had always been close.</p><p>"Sir!"  The young adjutant who had accompanied him from England hustled over to him.  "Captain, Fletcher needs ya!"</p><p>"Quick, Cap!"  Fletcher and a tall, rangy-looking boy with a New York insignia were supporting a limping soldier between them.  America strode over to help the soldier onto a cart to get his foot triaged, and as soon as he approached them Oregon looked up at him with a small smile.</p><p>"Hey, Dad."</p><p>America nearly screamed in relief.  "Oh, thank God," he sighed.  "You can tell me what happened in a minute, but let's get that foot looked at."</p><p>"Ain't shit," Oregon said, much to his astonishment. "What about the landings?  What about..."  She paused, but he heard the unspoken.</p><p>"We don't even know if the landings happened," he said.  "But for now we've got this village secured and we can start planning to move out to the perimeter. I've got a contact here who says that the Germans have a stronghold over that hill there."  He gestured. "Now, I talked to him this morning and he didn't know anything about the beaches either, but we can only move forward."</p><p>He found that his mouth was almost bone-dry.  If anyone knew about Washington's whereabouts it would be Oregon, but she hadn't said a word about her.</p><p>"Have you heard from Uncle Mattie?"  Oregon asked as her foot was wrapped.  "Or Papa?"</p><p>"Nothing yet, Daria, but they're fine.  They're alive and that's what matters."  He felt the familiar tugging, the odd sensation of his children's gestalt signatures coming to him from all over the world.  They were all safe--except for one.  He couldn't sense Washington at all.  This had always been difficult, because she was adopted; she sometimes blocked him purposely.  His heart sank.  When this happened, he had to get Russia or Finland to help him, and right now they were both very busy.  If they thought he had been negligent with their daughter, it would not go well for him.  "Daria, did Maria say that Germany cut you down from that church?"</p><p>Oregon looked alarmed.  "I didn't know that was him," she exclaimed.</p><p>He looked around grimly.  "Well, we don't have time to go over it yet," he sighed.  "We have to get moving out now.  There's no time to do anything.  Jesus, what a <em>mess</em>.  Stay with me until we meet up with Katrina."</p><p>"Okay.  I mean, yes sir," Oregon added.</p><p>America stared at the darkening sky and thought angrily that she shouldn't be there; <em>none</em> of them should be there.  The ranger, Ruitenbeek, would stay with them, seemingly indebted to Oregon for some reason.  America didn't mind, because they had lost too many men the night before and reinforcement troops were going to be slow in coming.</p><p>If they came at all.</p><p>Maybe the world was still on the verge of ending.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Normandy/France</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Ma petite, please reconsider your decision to leave us," France murmured as he watched Washington storm through the cottage gathering what little she wanted to carry out.  "You can remain with us and be safe."</p><p><em>"Safe!" </em> She turned on him with surprising viciousness, her voice rising.  "There's nowhere <em>safe</em> anymore, you delusional--"  she broke off abruptly, not wanting to take out her anger on him.  "There's nowhere safe anymore," she repeated.  "And I made a promise, Francis.  Prussia is going to regret meeting me.  I told him that he would pay, so I intend to deliver on that."</p><p>He shook his head, realising the futility of arguing.  But for America's sake, he tried one more time.  "If you head due south you will rendezvous with Amerique," he began, but she waved her hand dismissively.  "<em>Please,</em> Katrina!  I could not live with myself if I was aware of your plans and could not stop you."</p><p>She gave him a withering look.  "Oh, <em>please</em>.  Stop being hysterical, would you?  Trust me, both Uncle Matt and Pop know I can handle myself.  The worst that could happen has already happened, and I'm here, right?"</p><p>France looked at her darkly.  "That is <em>not</em> the worst that could happen," he informed her.  "The worst that could happen is that you become his <em>target</em>.  If Prusse becomes obsessed with you, <em>nothing</em> can save you from him.  Do you not understand?  He will <em>never</em> stop hunting you until you are <em>his."</em>  He grasped her arms, feeling the strength hidden deep within her.  It was quite odd; he wasn't used to feeling these kinds of things.  As he held her arms, a strange kind of current rolled from somewhere deep within her and into him, causing him to gasp.  This was much different than the small shocks he had felt in the bathroom.</p><p><em>"Let go of me, Francis,"</em> she said softly.  Her grey eyes held his.  He was stunned by the complete lack of fear in them.  "I don't want to hurt you."</p><p>Quickly he released her, stepping away.  Still, he had to try one more time to dissuade her.  <em>"Please,</em> ma chat.  Do not put yourself in any more danger than you are already.  Think of your loved ones!  Are you prepared to deal with the consequences if you go after Prusse and he claims you?"</p><p>This stopped her in her tracks.</p><p>"You do not know the first thing about the process of claiming, Katrina," France warned.  "You are fortunate that you are wanted by the nation that you love.  But if you are claimed by another before Danemark can rescue you, you will be under the control of that nation as your mate, and there's nothing Danemark can do about it aside from challenging that nation for mating rights with you.  It would be a fight to the death, Katrina," France said, looking straight into her.  "It is <em>not</em> something that you would want to see."</p><p>For a moment she stood there and it seemed as though she were considering what he had said.  But then she shook herself and sneered.  France's heart sank.</p><p>"I'd like to see him <em>try</em> to claim me," she said.  "See you around, Francis."  She pulled free of him and started for the door.  France watched her as she shrugged into Prussia's coat, wincing as she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the nation that had so viciously attacked her.  France knew what this meant.  What Prussia had done to her had already begun to change her.</p><p>"God protect you--" he began, but she turned on him and roughly propelled him back into the small living room.  She held him by his arms, squeezing them so hard that he feared that they would break.  She shook him and shouted into his face.</p><p><em>"There is no god!</em>  Your god never <em>existed! </em> If it <em>did,</em> <em>none</em> of the awful shit from the past thirty fuckin years would have happened!  Wake up, Francis," she warned.  "All your gods are <em>men."</em>  She released him, and he stood as still as a statue as she fled from him, out of the cottage and into the night.  He had lost her.</p><p>How could he tell Amérique?</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. St. Lô/Canada</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>He didn't know when he had finally stopped running.  It may have been hours; could have been days, weeks--hell, for all he knew, twenty years could have gone by; the war was over and everyone would now be required to say <em>Heil Beilschmidt.</em></p><p>Canada had spent the last unknown period of time in a state of alternating fugue and mania; now, he sat huddled at the base of a tall ash, listening to the familiar cadence of French as the French officers looked over the map of the region with England.  He wished he had never agreed to come across.  He wanted nothing but to look up and see Washington coming towards him, her rare, lopsided smile spreading across her face and her deep, slightly hoarse voice saying <em>Hey, Uncle Matt</em>.</p><p>But that wouldn't happen, because she was now most likely a captive of Prussia's.</p><p>He would never get the resolute look in her eyes out of his mind.  She might have thought she knew how to handle Prussia, but she had had no idea what was <em>really</em> in store for her.  How could she?  She might know that he would hurt her, but Canada knew what Prussia <em>really</em> wanted from her.  It was no secret that Prussia had wanted her upon first sight, years ago when she was still a little one.  He had come to see her even before she was Alfred's; that time, he had brought little Germany with him as a means to keep her occupied.  And that way nobody would suspect that he had designs on her. </p><p>Canada remembered that that particular visit had gone very well.  The Schleswig wars hadn't yet happened, so she had had no reason to dislike either Prussia or Germany, and she had allowed Germany to hold her hand and kiss her.</p><p>The second visit had been very different.  Prussia and Denmark had begun to squabble over the region of Schleswig to the point of drawing arms, thus preventing Denmark from coming to see his little one.  Somehow, little Washington had figured out just who was responsible for keeping Denmark from coming to see her, and she had had to be kept from Prussia during the two weeks that he was there.  Because he was unaware of her anger towards him, Prussia had boldly asked America for permission to court her when she came of age.  America then had to tell him that she was already promised to Denmark, which had absolutely <em>enraged</em> Prussia. </p><p>"I'm sorry, Gil," America had said, shrugging.  "I've already agreed to let Denmark court her when she gets older."  He gave his old friend a sheepish smile.  "You're just a little bit late." </p><p>Denmark had not been present for that conversation, but he had somehow found out about it.  And he began to torment Prussia in thousands of little ways, dropping mention of Washington whenever they were together; the <em>worst</em> of all were the times when she was with him and he happened to 'accidentally' run into Prussia, even if there was absolutely no reason for it.  Prussia's rage grew with each encounter.  Soon, it got to the point where he finally attacked Denmark, taking the region of Schleswig from him a second time in 1861, this time for good. </p><p>But that had backfired against Prussia in a way that no one had expected.  Canada remembered well the day that Finland had come to him, desperately asking him for help with little Katriina.</p><p>"Please keep an eye on her, Matthew," he pleaded.  "She's threatening to go after Prussia.  We <em>cannot</em> allow it.  She's trying to get him for hurting Denmark," he added.</p><p>It had taken until the Great War for her to get it out of her system; apparently, that had not been enough.  And Prussia had not forgotten about what he saw as a slight from America.  He would not hesitate to take what he firmly believed was his by right.</p><p>Canada's hands shook and he made them into fists.  He had let her be taken and had not tried to stop it.  Now whatever happened to her was his fault.</p><p>He threw back his head and screamed.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Normandy/Oregon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Oregon and Washington are reunited.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Keep an eye out for anything that looks like it might be out of place,"  Oregon said to Ruitenbeek as they peered out the upstairs window of the apartment America had chosen as their temporary headquarters.  "Those hateful monsters even use <em>children</em> as decoys."</p><p>Ruitenbeek didn't reply, but he grunted in acknowledgement.  They had spent the better part of three days holed up here and America intended to hold the town until England arrived.  Fermes was more of a ruin than an actual town now, Oregon thought.  Once, not too long ago, it had been a picturesque hamlet of storybook beauty.  She had seen photos of it in her guidebook.</p><p>"Jones," Ruitenbeek murmured, "two o'clock.  That definitely ain't a walking hedge."</p><p>Oregon hissed.  <em>"Pull back!"</em>  She grabbed him and yanked, but it was too late.  The creeping enemy had seen his muzzle and was alerted.</p><p>"Fuck," she said as the first rounds smashed into their window.  Something warm sprayed across her face and she swung around to the opposite window, keeping just below the sill.  They were focused on Ruitenbeek, or rather where he had been, so they did not see her.  Her hands began to shake and she cursed herself.  There was no way she would be able to take them all out by rifle, she knew.  But that didn't mean she couldn't try.  As she settled down, she drew a bead on the point man, and then changed her aim to the soldier behind him.  One perfectly-aimed bullet brought him down, and without waiting for them to orientate on her position, she lobbed a grenade into their midst.  As they blew apart, she turned away to see Ruitenbeek crouched down in the corner, his face tight and his hand clasped over his left arm.  Bright red twinkled between his fingers.</p><p>"No sweat," he muttered, but she pulled his hand away from the wound and saw the muscle exposed.  His arm was swelling rapidly.  Still, he refused to let her help him.  "I can hack it."</p><p>Oregon scoffed, digging her med kit out of her rucksack.  "Don't be a martyr, Ruitenbeek.  God, you remind me of my sister.  She broke her arm and still kicked our brother's ass all over the house.  I found her later setting her own arm.  <em>Will you hold still!"</em>  She yanked a torniquet around the top of his arm and began to look for the bullet.  It was not easy to find because of the swelling.  And Ruitenbeek was shaking so hard that she was hesitant to dig for it.</p><p>"Stop," he pleaded.  "I'll do it myself."</p><p>"Why don't <em>you</em> stop," Oregon snapped, and finally spotted the offending round.  Before he could stop her, she took her pen knife and dug into his arm.  He shrieked.</p><p>"Give 'im some fuckin morphine," a tired, slightly raspy voice said from the doorway.  Ruitenbeek looked over in alarm, that quickly turned into confusion, but Oregon knew already who it was.  Grinning, she kept her eyes on Ruitenbeek.  "Stop being such a <em>girl</em>, would you?" she exclaimed, pulling out two syrettes of precious morphine.  After she dosed him, she waited until he relaxed, and then beckoned Washington to them.  "Grab him and hold him," she said, taking in the clothing her sister now wore, and the coat.  "God, take that fucking thing <em>off,"</em> she added.  "You're lucky you aren't dead."</p><p>Washington grunted.  "Pop's getting me a spare pair," she muttered.  "Go.  I got im."</p><p>Ruitenbeek's eyes rolled back in his head as he tried to look at the young woman who had an insane grip on him.</p><p>"Who're you?" he muttered. </p><p>"Nobody.  I'm her sister," Washington snapped.  "Daria, give him another shot."</p><p>Oregon looked up at her in surprise.  "But I got it," she began, and Washington smirked dismissively.  Shrugging, Oregon did what she was told, and Ruitenbeek drifted off into Opium Land.  Washington laid his head onto her pack and darted across the room to the wardrobe.</p><p>"Kate, I'm sure it's empty," Oregon started to say, but to her surprise it wasn't.  Washington pulled out a pile of clothing and began to undress.  When Oregon hesitated, she stopped and gestured impatiently.</p><p>"C'mon, Daria," she said.  "He's not gonna sleep forever, and I have to get out of here before Pop figures out what I'm up to."</p><p>Giving in, Oregon unbuttoned her shirt.  "Just what <em>are</em> you up to, Kate?"</p><p>Washington pulled on a skirt and fastened it tightly, shoving a dirk into the waistband.  "I'm going to give Prussia his coat back and thank him for his cigarettes," she muttered, glaring at herself in the filthy mirror.  "Fucking bastard."  She turned and stared at Oregon.  "You can't tell <em>anyone</em> about this."</p><p>Horrified, Oregon looked down at the sleeping Ruitenbeek.  "Kate, Daddy will figure me out.  He always knows when I lie!"</p><p>Washington shrugged.  "Well then, you'll just have to come with me then, won't you?"</p><p>Sighing, Oregon realised that it had probably been Washington's plan all along.  "Fine," she muttered, and quickly changed into a passable civilian getup.  Prussia's coat disappeared into a knapsack and Washington shrugged it onto her shoulder, picking up a discarded rifle.  "Let's head out before they show up."</p><p>Oregon hurried after her.  "Where are we going?  We aren't <em>walking</em> the whole way!"  Angrily she pulled on Washington's elbow.  <em>"No! </em> Good way to get caught!"</p><p>Washington jerked away.  "I'm not <em>stupid,</em> Daria.  Of <em>course</em> we aren't walking the whole way.  I got us a ride to the border," she added.  "Not <em>all</em> Germany's citizens are feral, apparently.  Luckily, everyone in Europe can be bought for next to nothing these days, so it only cost me a loaf of stolen bread and some dried meat.  Also stolen."</p><p>The car was parked behind the town gate, and the German in the driver's seat looked like a child.  Washington said something to him in rapid German, to which he responded with brisk nod.  Oregon wasn't sure she trusted this kid, but Washington didn't seem concerned.</p><p><em>"Why</em> aren't we waiting for nightfall?" Oregon hissed into her sister's ear.  Washington scoffed.</p><p>"Because that's what <em>everyone</em> does, so that's when the Hun will be expecting it," she pointed out.  "Do exactly what you normally do, because they think you'll do the opposite.  People are so fuckin stupid that I could just <em>cry,"</em> Washington sighed.  Oregon turned and stared out the window at the ruins of France, remembering coming here as a little one and thinking that she had <em>never</em> seen such beauty.</p><p>Now, it was like moving through a living nightmare.</p><p>And yet she knew that the worst was still waiting for them.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Potsdam/ Germany</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Germany captures what soon becomes his worst nightmare.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>He could not believe his luck.  Here he was, out on a patrol that originally wasn’t even under his command, in the boring village of Marburg with absolutely nothing going on.  He finally sent his grateful men off to enjoy what the town had to offer, and just as he left the Bücherei, a familiar voice caught his attention.</p><p>He never would have recognised Washington’s voice if she hadn’t chosen that exact moment to switch from perfectly-accented German to English.  The moment she did this, her companion, a sweet-looking blonde who could have passed for any Marburger, saw him and struck her sister in a warning manner.  Without even looking around to see what the matter was, Washington was on her feet in an instant and the two were moving as fast as they could without making it look obvious, but he was also quick, and followed them with grim determination until the blonde, whom he now knew to be Oregon, panicked and began to run.</p><p>“Daria, <em>stop!”</em>  Washington tried to calm her down, but she faltered, perhaps sensing a presence nearby.  Before she could look around and see her fate, Oregon tripped and Washington turned back to help her up.  As they scrambled up, a short burst of gunfire brought them to a halt.</p><p>"That's enough of this <em>running</em> shit," Prussia calmly declared, his weapon pointed at their backs.  The blonde's hands went up, but the other made her hands into fists and she screamed, <em>"FUCK!"</em></p><p>Prussia's mouth formed a deadly smile.  "Why hello again, <em>Katrina Braginskaya,"</em> he purred.  Jamming the rifle into her back, he herded her towards the truck that was parked behind the bank.  Germany was able to take Oregon by the arm and lead her without incident, but he noticed that she seemed more worried about her sister than herself.</p><p>Prussia noticed this also.  Gesturing to the covered truck bed with his rifle, he nodded for Germany to get into the driver's seat.  "Both of you get in there."</p><p>Oregon began to obey without question, but Washington resisted immediately.</p><p>
  <em>"No!"</em>
</p><p>"Bruder, I'd like to introduce you to the <em>lovely</em> Washington and Oregon," Prussia announced as he tried to force the very problematic Washington into the back of the truck.  The redhead wasn't having <em>any</em> of it, and it reminded Germany of someone attempting to put a cat in a cage.  He smirked at his Bruder’s difficulties, because he was able to get Oregon into the truck with no problem and got into the driver seat while his Bruder continued to struggle with Washington at the tailgate. </p><p>"Did you <em>really</em> think I wouldn't know where you are?" Prussia mocked.  "I knew you were there the whole time.  You ought to know better by now that you can't hide from me anymore, <em>Katrina."</em></p><p>Germany frowned.  What was he talking about?  And how did he know her True Name?</p><p>There was a jarring crash that shook the entire truck.  This was followed by a series of breathless curses from Washington in...Danish?  Germany hadn't known that Washington spoke Danish.  He also hadn't been aware that his brother understood it; whatever she said, infuriated him.</p><p>"Shut up!  That smug Viking is doing you no favors now, is he?"</p><p>"I fucking <em>hate</em> you!  <em>Stop!</em>  Don't fucking touch me!  <em>Stop!  Stop!  Don't!!"</em></p><p>Germany sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  What the hell was his brother actually planning to <em>do</em> with Washington?  he wondered.</p><p>Unfortunately, he didn't have to wonder long.</p><p>"If you insist on doing it this way, then," Prussia growled.  <em>"Stop fighting me or I'll cut your throat!"</em>  After several minutes of violent struggling, both Washington and Prussia began to breathe in deep, gasping moans that culminated in unmistakable cries of sexual gratification.  There was a tense moment of silence followed by the sound of a breaking kiss and then another, longer one, this one sounding as if they were both participating and it was much more tender.  And then a third, this one without question initiated by both at once.  They were panting when it broke, and then the thumping began again, this time without the protests or the struggle.  Germany could hear Oregon weeping in the back of the truck as his brother and her sister had sex not three feet away from her. </p><p><em>"Gilbert.</em> ...oh,  yes, <em>Gilbert yes, don't stop..</em>. mmm... mmm ...<em>ohhhh,</em> <em>fuck yes,"</em>  This time Washington whispered his name twice as she came, moaning breathlessly, which undoubtedly pleased him because he chuckled and answered her in the same soft way. </p><p>“How very beautiful you are, Katrina."  He gently kissed her, breathing heavily.  "You belong to <em>me</em> now, and you <em>will</em> love me before long.  Don't you <em>see?</em>  I told you that you would begin to like it.”  There was another kiss, this one even more lingering than the others, followed by the kind of silence that could only mean a staring contest.  Prussia obviously lost, because he spoke next.  “You’ll learn the rules soon enough, and we’ll get along perfectly together, Katrina.  <em>Now get in there,"</em> he hissed, sounding slightly out of breath.  His demeanor had returned to its normal iciness.  There was a thud as Washington hit the back of the cab with her fist, and it left a dent next to his head.  Germany looked at it in alarm.  That was steel, four inches thick.</p><p>What had they gotten themselves into?</p><p>A few seconds later Prussia got into the passenger seat, looking very disheveled but smugly satisfied.  When he noticed that Germany was glaring at him, he shot him an irritated look.  <em>"What?"</em></p><p>Germany didn't say anything as they began the drive to Doppelrabe, their fort in Potsdam.  Out of the corner of his eyes he watched his Bruder straightening his clothing and securing his belt, and he felt his stomach tighten in disapproval.  There was something about his brother and Washington that made him very uneasy, and he suspected that she had not merely been <em>part</em> of the objective but had been the <em>actual</em> objective, at least where his Bruder was concerned.  He had not expected them, but Prussia had known that they were there.</p><p>Prussia wouldn’t talk about it with him, but he didn’t need to.  As he smoothed his hair back into place, Washington’s scent came from him in waves.  It was green and sweet, like forest resin in the summer, with underlying scents of fresh rain and  the sea; clean and crisp.  Germany caught himself inhaling it and quickly began a discussion with Prussia about the problems Hungary was causing Austria.  “We may need to kill her.”</p><p>Prussia waved his hand dismissively.  “I don’t give a <em>damn</em> about that freak of nature.  Let her piss Ivan off and deal with the consequences of it herself."</p><p>Even with something to discuss, all Germany could think about was the intoxicating scent of trees and rain; perhaps the individual scent of her fear.  Just knowing that she was frightened made him feel strange.  For he had never experienced guilt before, and it was even stranger that he wasn’t as concerned for Oregon.  But perhaps that was because Prussia wasn’t interested in her.  Oregon, he knew, would get out of this just fine.  Washington might be irreparably damaged by what would happen to her here.  She was already frightened of him.</p><p>He did not want her to fear him.</p><p>For the first time in his life, Germany thought he might actually hate his brother.</p><p>It was dark when they finally arrived.</p><p>"You...swine," Washington panted as Prussia dragged her out of the back of the truck by her hair.  <em>"You son of a bitch!  Let me go!"</em>  Despite having been viciously assaulted by him, and then twice having sex with him, once by force and once consensual, she was <em>not at all</em> willing to obey and go with him.  She bore down and refused to move.</p><p>"Ludwig, help me," he snapped, but Germany took one look at her and froze.  She glared at him hatefully.</p><p>"Don't you <em>dare</em> touch me," she growled.  An unfamiliar cold spear twisted into his heart at the sound of those words.  Something deep within him told him that the cold spear was the unfamiliar feeling of fear.  His arm twinged where he had a small scar and he grabbed it, frowning. </p><p><em>"Bruder!  Los!  </em>Grab this bitch and help me get her inside," Prussia ordered.  "Be careful handling her; she's a land personification.  She's gotten me a few times."</p><p>No wonder he was holding her by the hair, Germany thought.  He thought of that first unfortunate meeting in the gun turret at Normandy and how painful it was.  Reluctantly he allowed the guards to unload Oregon and grabbed Washington by the arm, but he made sure she was firmly in his Bruder's grip first. </p><p>"I <em>said</em> don't touch me!" she snarled, trying to pull away from him.  "If you don't let go of me right <em>fucking</em> now, you goddamn Hun bastard, I'll tear your heart out and eat it.  <em>Let me go!"</em>  She struggled hard, and Germany nearly lost his hold on her, but Prussia yanked her around by her thick braid and head-butted her.  Dazed, she stumbled and her legs buckled.  Semi-conscious, she fell right into Germany's arms.  He was then able to easily carry her to the small room that would serve as her cell.  As he did, he breathed in that amazing scent of trees.  She was either too stunned to care that he was doing it or she didn’t know; he stopped when he caught Austria watching him, hiding a smile behind the mask of pompous disdain. </p><p>“This one is hers,” Austria gestured to the door at the end of the corridor.  Germany was both disappointed and relieved to put her down.  Because Prussia was watching him, he had to be much rougher than he wanted to be.  He practically threw her across the room, and she hit the opposite wall with enough force to crack the plaster.  She landed on the floor in a stunned heap.</p><p>For a moment too long, he stared down at her.  She was very still, and he began to fear that he had injured her, but then she stirred and sat up slowly, shaking her head to clear it.  When she realised that he was still there, she looked over at him and he cringed at the pleading look on her face.  Before he could make a fatal error and open his mouth, he made his face as stony as possible and turned away from her, slamming the door to her cell.</p><p>He had a much easier time taking Oregon to her cell next door.  She neither met his eyes nor spoke to him until he was turning away to close and lock the door.</p><p>"You better stop trying to hurt her," Oregon warned.  "Maybe you don't know this because you're young, but she's hated you for about a hundred years.  It has nothing to do with this."  Through the wall came the sudden sounds of an intense struggle, and Oregon frowned, looking thoughtful.  She pointed to his arm, and the small bite scar.  "That was from the <em>first</em> time you met her."  Her eyes narrowed dangerously.  “I bet you don’t even remember her doing that to you.”</p><p>Germany <em>did</em> remember it happening.  He had just come of age when the war began; at a critical point during the action, a strange thing had happened: from out of nowhere, a little one had attacked Hungary, and when he came to her aid, the little one had turned on him, biting him with surprising viciousness.  It had come out of the mist like a wraith and had vanished back into it just as quickly.  Now that he remembered it, the little one had been a girl-child, with red hair and grey eyes.  There were no others like that besides Washington.  It was most certainly her.  Still, he was amazed.  “How is that possible?” he demanded.  “If that was Washington, she was very small then, and it’s only been twenty-five years.  You cannot grow that fast!"</p><p>Next door, the struggle intensified and then abruptly changed course.  Now they could both clearly hear Washington cry out as if in extreme pain.  It was followed a split second later by Prussia's voice rising in a shout.  Germany doubted <em>very</em> much that they were arguing.  <em>"She</em> did," Oregon promised.  "And when she found out what you did to Denmark last time, she was <em>pissed</em>.  You didn't even fight with him then.  Oh, you're going to be sorry."</p><p>"Shut up about that self-absorbed Viking," Prussia snapped, finally emerging from the other cell.  "Ludwig, you were too rough with her.  You're going to have to get that wall replaced."</p><p>"You better stop," Oregon repeated.  "She already hated you before any of this happened."</p><p>"You have a pretty face," Prussia said, coldly.  "It would be a shame if you didn't keep your mouth shut and we had to damage it."</p><p>Oregon didn't answer him, but Germany could see the anger on her face before she turned away.  Prussia, he saw, was once again straightening his clothing and he knew that the sounds of struggling had been his brother <em>again</em> raping the other one.  Why would he keep <em>doing</em> that?  Germany wondered, feeling distressed.  After three days of this, he felt as if he would scream if he had to look at another map of Berlin with the awful sounds of Prussia forcing himself on that poor girl going on below his feet.  He found that he couldn't even concentrate on the maps spread all over his desk.  His office was a nightmare of paper.</p><p>"What's <em>wrong</em> with you?"</p><p>He clenched his teeth at the sound of his Bruder's voice, and his fists at the scent of rain and trees that rolled off him.  "What are you doing to her?" he demanded.  "And why are you doing it?"</p><p>Prussia's teeth gleamed in a most unpleasant smile.  "Now, I would think that it is obvious what I'm doing, Ludwig.  I'm <em>breaking</em> her.  The reason why is quite simple:  Because I <em>want</em> her.  And she will be <em>mine."</em></p><p>"That is insane," Germany objected.  "It will never work.  I saw her arm, Gilbert.  She's Denmark's."</p><p>"The fucking <em>world</em> is insane right now," Prussia snapped.  "That tattoo on her arm means <em>nothing</em>.  That's no claim bite.  It <em>will</em> work," he added.  "You will see.  She's already fighting me less.  Soon she will give herself, and when she does, she will belong to <em>me,</em> not that arrogant Dane." </p><p><em>"Why?"</em> Germany hissed.  "Do you not realize the position we are in right now?  Amerika routed us in that forest, Gilbert.  He is mowing his way towards us as we speak.  Holding these two is folly!  He will <em>destroy</em> us if they are harmed in any way!"</p><p>"That's where you are wrong," Prussia declared.  "Ludwig, they are his absolute pride and joy.  Once he knows we have them, if he doesn't already, he will do <em>anything</em> to keep them safe.  Even if it means abandoning his armies and surrendering."</p><p>Germany stared at him.  "Amerika would <em>never</em> do that," he said.  "Bruder, this is madness.  Stop manhandling that poor girl."</p><p>"Poor?  <em>Poor?"</em>  Prussia hissed.  "You're delusional if you feel sorry for her--for <em>either</em> of them, Ludwig.  It will happen eventually.  And that tosser Denmark will just have to suffer when I formally claim her.  I don't know <em>what</em> Amerika was thinking, allowing that smug Viking to put his paws all over her."</p><p>Germany frowned.  "Bruder, I don't think that he has actually--"</p><p>Prussia advanced on him, his fists clenched.  "The first time I saw her, I <em>wanted</em> her," he hissed.  "And I made it <em>quite</em> clear to Amerika that I wanted her.  So <em>what</em> does he do?  Promises her to that self-serving Viking <em>bastard!"</em>  His jaw tightened.  "That son of a bitch <em>knew</em> I wanted her.  He fucking <em>knew</em> it!  And he made sure I saw them together <em>every chance he got!"</em></p><p>"Bruder, just--"</p><p>Prussia waved him off.  Irritated, Germany yanked his cap on and stormed out into the corridor.  Austria met him in the hallway.</p><p>"Ludwig, you might want to get medical attention for that young lady," he informed Germany.  "She's bleeding all over the place in there."</p><p>Germany's heart jacked painfully.  "What?  Which one?"</p><p>Austria's face showed all the displeasure Germany could imagine, and then some.  "Washington.  Her arms and legs are cut all to hell."  They began to hurry together to the lift, which seemed to take forever. </p><p>Her room was at the end of the corridor, and the little window in the door was dark, even though it was the middle of the day.  As they passed Oregon's door, she hurled a shoe at them, but since the door was shut it simply banged against the metal.</p><p>"I don't think our little friends like it here very much," Austria said, disdainfully.  Germany put the key to the lock and frowned.It was already unlocked.  Alarmed he shoved the door back and stopped short when he saw Washington curled up in the furthest corner of the dark room.  His heart sank.  The room itself was neat--there wasn't much in the way of furniture anyways--but the sheets and blankets on the bed were dark with blood.</p><p>"Oh, bitte, nein," he whispered, as Austria came in with a torch.  Hoping Roderich had not heard him, he straightened and tried to look as officious as possible.  "What have you done to yourself?" he demanded, charging forward and grasping her by the arm.  Too late, he remembered Gilbert's warning and cringed in anticipation of a blast of pain, but nothing happened.  She didn't even struggle against him as he pulled her to her feet.  Roderich was right, he saw.  There were deep cuts on her arms and legs, and they looked to have been done with a very sharp blade.  But there were no knives, or anything sharp, within a hundred feet of these rooms.  "Did someone do this to you?" he barked.<br/>        <br/>"Yes," she answered, her voice sounding distant and far away.  When she turned her eyes to look at him he recoiled.  It reminded him of the look he had seen in the eyes of morphine addicts who had just tried heroin for the first time.  His hands shook as he helped her sit down on the stripped-down bed.  She was in shock, he realised; she was practically clinging to him.  <em>Christus, all that blood,</em> he thought.</p><p>Quite suddenly he wanted to cry.</p><p>"Did my brother do this to you?" he asked, keeping his voice gentle to help her stay calm.  He could feel her trembling from deep in her core.</p><p>Her eyes flickered.  "Yes," she replied, her voice so low that he almost couldn't hear it.</p><p>"Ludwig, he should <em>not</em> be doing things like this," Austria said, pointing out the obvious.</p><p>"No, he shouldn't," Germany agreed.  <em>Forget crying,</em> he thought.  Now he was nearly overcome by a desire to grab her up, run away to Switzerland’s place with her and never look back.  Then when Amerika defeated the Reich--because he <em>would</em>--they could come back to rebuild his land together, perhaps even with little ones.  </p><p>"You're an idiot," Washington said, sullenly.  He snapped back to reality instantly.  <em>"Both</em> of you.  Neither of you know anything about it."  She shied away from the doctor, who looked at Germany in confusion.  <em>"Get off me!"</em></p><p>"Stop making this difficult!  He's trying to <em>help</em> you," Germany snapped.  She swung on him and he only just managed to catch her fist in his hand.  It quite hurt, but not enough to make him let go.  <em>"Don't</em> do that again," he warned.</p><p>For a moment she was still, and the doctor brought bandages and ointment.  But as soon as he began to tend to the wounds, she surged up.</p><p>"Get the <em>fuck...away</em> from me," she hissed, tearing away from the doctor.  Germany moved to intercept her, but she turned on him so quickly that he didn't have time to fend her off.  She seized the scissors and plunged them straight into his chest.  "I said <em>get off!</em>  I don't <em>want</em> your fucking help!"</p><p>Finally alerted to the commotion, Prussia strode calmly into the room and promptly backhanded her across the face.  Germany flinched.  She stopped immediately, seeming to close in on herself as though she were trying to disappear.  Prussia stared at her intently for a minute and then turned to look at Germany and the doctor.</p><p>"Leave," he ordered, but he took the bandages and the ointment from the doctor and pulled the scissors from Germany's chest.  "I'll deal with this."  He stared at his brother, his red eyes flashing angrily.  "Get out <em>now,"</em> he commanded.</p><p>Reluctantly Germany followed Austria and the doctor from the room, and Prussia slammed the door behind him as soon as he crossed the threshold.  Unwilling to just leave his brother down here with her, Germany watched through the little window as Washington sat quietly on the bed while his Bruder tended to the cuts on her arms and legs with a surprising amount of tenderness and care.  Then, to Germany's horror, Prussia said something to her to which she responded with a nod, and she removed her blouse to reveal a vicious slice running up her side.  It was so horrific that Germany could not even appreciate the beauty of her body; all he could see was the long bloody gash running from her hip to her armpit.</p><p>Amazingly, she didn’t flinch as Prussia gently cleaned and dressed the wound, and when he finished, he took her face in his hands and spoke to her; she responded, and whatever she said gave him permission to kiss her softly on the mouth.  Germany could now see that his brother was indeed correct about Washington being less resistant, because not only did she allow it, but she also closed her eyes and put her arms around him, opening her mouth against his. </p><p>Feeling breathless, Germany turned away.  He had never experienced envy before, so he didn’t recognise it, but the feeling of breathlessness made him feel even worse when Washington accepted his brother’s touch.  Was this <em>jealousy?</em> he wondered.  If so, he almost <em>enjoyed</em> the feeling.  It was very similar to the feeling he would get right before getting into a fight.</p><p>To his annoyance, Prussia then locked her cell and covered the little window, glaring out at his brother before yanking the shade.  Germany had no choice but to go to his office, because he had no idea how long his brother was going to take fucking her this time.  The last time had been over an hour.  As he stormed towards the lift, Austria called to him.  “Ludwig.”</p><p>He paused and looked back, curious.  Austria beckoned to him and spoke quietly into his ear.  “Ludwig, I've noticed the way you have been looking at each other.”  Germany began to protest, but Austria raised one eyebrow, and that simple gesture shut him up immediately.  “I <em>know,”</em> he said, “what you’re thinking.  And if either of you ever need anything, just let me know.  I’ll help you.”</p><p>This time, Prussia stayed in her cell for nearly two hours.  When he finally came into Germany’s office, his hair was damp.  He smoothed it back with his hands looking very satisfied.  When he saw Germany's face he smirked dismissively, but Germany's fury at his brother could not be ignored.  "Gilbert, I need to talk to you."</p><p>"If you're going to scold me for cutting her up, you might as well forget it, because you're wasting your time," Prussia informed him. </p><p>"Am I?  That cut on her side is going to leave a <em>scar,</em> Gilbert.  Why would you <em>do</em> something like that to her?  Isn't it <em>enough</em> that you are raping her every single day?"</p><p>Prussia shot him a dark look.  "It's not rape if she doesn't say no," he said, arrogantly.  "I <em>told</em> you that I would break her.  It's working.  Soon <em>she</em> will come to <em>me.</em>  She's already allowing me to do anything I want."</p><p>Germany came around his desk and seized his brother by the collar.  "I refuse to believe that she would just <em>allow</em> you to cut her up!"</p><p>"Ludwig," Prussia said, coldly, "let go of me.  <em>Allow</em> me?" he added with a smirk, straightening his collar.  "My dear Bruder, she <em>asked</em> me to.  She <em>begged</em> me to cut her.  Oh, yes," he nodded.  Germany stared at him in rising horror.  "She begged me to cut her and then <em>fuck her,</em> Bruder.  You should have seen it," he added, his red eyes gleaming.  "She was even more beautiful than ever, all worked up like that.  And she tasted <em>divine."</em></p><p>"Don't <em>say</em> things like that about her!" Germany shouted.  "She's not just some <em>object</em> for you to play around with!"</p><p>"Bruder," Prussia sighed, shaking his head, "she doesn't have a choice.  I <em>told</em> you," he said again.  "She will be <em>mine.</em>  She <em>is</em> mine.  It's only a matter of time now before she completely gives herself to me."  He regarded his brother silently for a moment and then asked softly, "Are you <em>jealous,</em> Ludwig?  You want her for <em>yourself,</em> don't you?"  He gave his brother a triumphant little smile.  "You <em>do,</em> don't you?"</p><p>Germany clenched his fists.  He didn't know what to say to that.  Not only could he not deny it, which he would never admit to anyone, but he couldn't understand how she would actually want to be hurt.  The only thing he did understand was that she was now sexually bound to Prussia, whether or not she wanted to be, because he had taken her virginity.</p><p>And he wished <em>he</em> had been the one.</p><p>Long ago, when he and Washington were both little ones, Prussia had brought him over to meet her, but she had gone by a different name then.  He wasn't sure if Denmark had anything to do with it, but he had been there, and Germany seemed to remember that their relationship even then had been extraordinarily intimate, almost to the point of being inappropriate, especially for one between a little one and a fully-grown kingdom.  At first, he had not liked or trusted her, but eventually he couldn't stop thinking about her, and the more time they spent together, the more he had liked her.  And it had seemed that she liked him too, because soon she was smiling at him when he talked to her, although she spoke no German and he spoke no Danish; she let him hold her hand when they walked on the beach and he had kissed her twice, little kisses on the cheek:  once when they were sitting on a rock near the river and then again when they went to the big town with Denmark and Finland.  But when he left for home, he had summoned up every bit of courage he had and kissed her on the lips.  It had startled her, but after a terrifying moment of silence, she had smiled.</p><p>"Farvel," she had said, and she had kissed him back. </p><p>Prussia had teased him about it when they sailed, pointing out that she was already back in selfish Denmark's greedy embrace.  He had yelled back that it wasn't true, but then he had sneaked a look out the window and saw that it was.  She was in his arms watching them leave, leaning against his shoulder, and he had his lips to her hair and she looked ready to fall asleep.</p><p>Fucking Denmark.</p><p>But <em>what</em> had she been called then?  Pacific something.  Who were her sires?  She looked nothing like Amerika or England.</p><p>It ate at him and worried him all through his lunch.  After his coffee he closed himself into his office, which had a new pile of maps on his desk.  Glaring at them, he began to file them in order.  It was a task that was very soothing to him, and he enjoyed doing it at home too.  He was tired of the constant mess, however.  He suspected Prussia was responsible, because nobody else would dare leave such a mess of fuckery on his desk.</p><p>But what was this? </p><p>Among the maps there was a dossier.  Frowning slightly, he opened it and stared in amazement at the contents.  They were all here, in detail: each and every one of Amerika's children.  Everything he would <em>ever</em> want to know was here.  But only two of them were relevant to him:  Oregon and Washington, known collectively as the Pacific Northwest.</p><p>Ah, perfect and proper Oregon.  She was England's daughter, which came as something of a surprise, because she was <em>nothing</em> like the scathing former Empire.  He frowned thoughtfully and looked through her file.  She certainly wasn't up to much--her main industry at the moment was wartime production, whereas Washington--</p><p>He froze.  It was as if a grenade exploded very close to his ears, and they began ringing.  Washington had a coastline bristling with busy ports, heavy armaments output, aircraft production and one other thing.</p><p>
  <em>Atomic energy.</em>
</p><p>His eyes happened upon something else that made his heart stop:  Unlike Oregon, who was the perfect mix of England and Amerika, Washington was adopted, not born of American settlers.  Her sires, he saw with horror, were Finland and Russia.</p><p>Dear God.  <em>Pacific Russia,</em> he remembered suddenly.  She had been known as Pacific Russia then.</p><p><em>No wonder, </em>he thought, staring unseeing at the wall portrait of der Führer.  No <em>wonder</em> she was so sullen and hateful.  She had never wanted to be Amerika's in the first place.  Had his brother known that?</p><p>He <em>had</em> to do something.  He had to get her away from his Bruder before she drove him completely mad--it was almost to the point where he would be uncontrollable if he kept trying to get her to bow to him.  <em>She was driving him mad</em>.  Every time Prussia had her, he became more and more ruthless.</p><p>It didn't take him long to figure out what had to be done.  The next afternoon, as soon as his Bruder left for a meeting at the front, he stalked downstairs to the cell block and informed Washington that he had some information that she might be interested in, but he needed to speak to her privately about it.  She was suspicious, but she had no choice but to go with him.  If she refused, she knew he would not hesitate to beat the shit out of her.  Which of course he did not really want to do; he just wanted her to <em>think</em> that he would.</p><p>When he shut and locked his office door, she was immediately stepping up to him.  Much to his surprise, she seemed unafraid of him.  "Unlock that fucking door, Germany," she insisted.  "What the fuck are you doing?"</p><p>"You are Russia's daughter," he began.</p><p>"Yes, so?"</p><p>He examined his fingernails.  "The longer you remain here the more of a risk it is to mein Bruder und myself.  So I have a proposal for you, Braginskaya.  That <em>is</em> your name.  Isn't it?"</p><p>She glared at him.  "You <em>know</em> that it is.  Why does it matter?  What the fuck do you <em>want</em> from me?" she demanded.</p><p>He smiled wolfishly at her.  "I want to release you, Washington.  You're going to be set free.  Of course, you can't tell <em>anyone</em> about this, and you're going to have to do something for <em>me</em> first."</p><p>Her eyes narrowed.  "What do you mean?"</p><p>"Exactly what I said.  You do this for me, and you can walk out of here with the guarantee that you will not be harmed," he declared.</p><p>She rolled her eyes.  "God, you're--<em>no,"</em> she snapped.  "I meant what am I supposed to <em>do</em> for you, bastard?"</p><p>"Suck me off, and if you do a good enough job, I'll make sure your sister also remains completely unharmed," he said, staring into her face.  She looked horrified, and he felt his smile widen.  "Of course, you can always refuse, and continue to stay here to be brutalized by my Bruder."</p><p>She shook her head once.  "This is unbelievable.  You want me to fucking <em>blow</em> you so I can get out of here and leave my sister behind?  No fucking <em>way,</em> Herr <em>Deutschland."</em></p><p>He snorted.  "I thought you might say that, so let me just remind you that I can't control what my brother does to you, or to your sister.  Wouldn't it be <em>awful</em> if she realised that the reason she was violated was because you couldn't find it in your heart to save her?"</p><p>She actually lunged at him, launching herself over his desk.  <em>"You son of a--!"</em></p><p>He quickly grabbed her by the nape of her neck, cutting her off.  Something akin to an electric shock ran from her and into his hand up to his elbow.  He clenched his teeth, trying not to yell from the pain.  She was <em>unbelievably</em> powerful, he realised.  He had a feeling that she wasn't even truly aware of just how powerful she was.  Amerika was almost <em>certainly</em> keeping her strength a secret; not only from the rest of the world but also from his own children.  If she had managed to strike him just now, she very well might have been able to inflict serious damage.  He gripped her tightly and squeezed.  "You thought I would just <em>release</em> you out of the goodness of my heart?  Don't be silly, girl.  I'm doing it for my brother's sake, not <em>yours.</em>  You're making him crazy, and I can understand why.  What's it going to be?"</p><p>She stared at him in silence.</p><p>He felt his mouth form a triumphant little smile when she dropped to her knees before him.</p><p>"You fucking goddamn shitlord," she hissed as he unbuckled his pants.</p><p>"If you bite me, I will cut your throat," he promised, and she glared at him.  He tightened his grip on her neck until she hissed at him again, but he did not release her despite the intensifying flashes of pain.  "Is that clear?"</p><p><em>"Yes</em>, damn it," she snapped.  She stared in surprise at his already-hard cock, then looked up at him with a sly expression as she realised that he had been hard the entire time they had been speaking.</p><p>"You're bigger than your brother," she remarked.  The pain in his arm slowly subsided.  He regarded her through slitted eyes.</p><p>"Get to work."</p><p>It took every ounce of restraint that he had to keep from blowing his load and melting into a puddle almost the instant she took him into her warm, perfect mouth.  He didn't know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't <em>this</em>.  Dear fucking God, where had she learned to <em>do</em> this?  There was no way in <em>hell</em> she'd picked up these kinds of skills in one week of being continuously raped by his brother.</p><p>To his utter ecstasy, she seemed to know that he was in danger of getting off too soon, and she forced him to calm down.  As she did this, she glanced up at him, a strangely alluring look in those grey eyes.  He nearly screamed at the ceiling.  If this was what she'd been doing to Prussia then no <em>wonder</em> he wanted her so badly.  This was <em>nirvana</em>, he thought.  She was obviously <em>not</em> the innocent child everyone assumed all Amerika's children were.  She was more talented at this than <em>any</em> whore.</p><p>"Fuck," he gasped, unable to help himself.  He grabbed her head in his hands and fucked her mouth, not caring if her teeth might accidentally catch.  He didn't care about anything else at that moment other than how fucking <em>perfect</em> she was.  His only regret was that he didn't have time to properly fuck her himself.  For this he could have made her feel <em>so</em> good, he thought.  It became too much for him when she lifted her enormous grey eyes to his as she gave him the best blowjob he had <em>ever</em> had.  He finally let go with a shuddering sigh, holding her head tightly and shooting his load straight down her throat.  They stared into each other’s eyes as she took every drop of it easily, swallowing without any hesitation, confirming his suspicion that she had done this many times before.  For a moment he held her there, breathing hard.  As soon as he released her, she pulled away and got to her feet, turning away from him.  She was shaking; whether from nervousness or fear he couldn't tell.  As he fixed his trousers and smoothed his hair back, he watched her out of the corner of his eye.  She looked shell-shocked, he thought, and unsure, as if she feared he might not be satisfied.  Remorse tried to encroach upon him, but he refused to allow it.  Before she could open her mouth and start demanding things, because of course she was going to, he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her firmly against him.  She struggled briefly, but he tightened his grip until she understood that he might crush her if she kept it up.</p><p>"Let me <em>go,"</em> she whispered, staring up at him anxiously.  "You promised."</p><p>He ignored that and deliberately kissed her, tasting himself but also her own taste, her peculiar characteristics:  her gestalt signature.  She tasted of rain and ancient trees and the sea.  He had never tasted anything like it.  It was like taking that first deep breath after nearly drowning.  He wanted to show her, without words, that he appreciated what she had just done for him. <em> I could kiss her forever,</em> he thought.  For a moment it seemed as if she might actually let him, because she relaxed in his arms and responded to his touch before she realised what was happening.</p><p>She finally tore away from him and slapped him across the face hard enough to spin his head to the side.  It stung, and he let go of her, rubbing his jaw reflectively as she glared at him.</p><p>"Don't you <em>ever</em> kiss me like that again," she said hoarsely.  "I will tear your tongue out of your throat and <em>strangle</em> you with it."  Her eyes gleamed.  "I got you off.  Now let me go!"</p><p>He considered hitting her back, but knew that it would just serve to infuriate her more, and if his Bruder somehow found out that he had done this, it would not be pretty.  He was also very much certain that she was perfectly willing to both go rounds with him and fuck him behind Prussia's back.  Besides, he didn't want to hurt her.  He never had.</p><p>"Yes.  I promised," he said, "and you will be freed.  First thing in the morning."</p><p>Her lips thinned across her teeth.  "Not tomorrow.  <em>Now."</em></p><p>He felt the slender, yet powerful muscles in her arms as he squeezed.  <em>"No</em>, Braginskaya.  Tomorrow morning is when you are scheduled to work in the accounting office, and mein Bruder will not be around to watch you.  He has eyes all over this fucking place and especially on you, in case you haven't noticed.  And," he added, knowing that this would get to her, "it will give you time with your sister."  He paused.  "Although I could arrange for Italy to get you out of here tonight, it would require an additional ...<em>payment."</em></p><p>She hissed at him.  "I can take anything from you," she said, hatefully.  "You are <em>nothing."</em></p><p>He frowned.  For some reason hearing her say that actually affected him, and he didn't like it one bit.  "All you will have to do <em>this</em> time is tell me all about the atom bomb--while fucking me, of course.” </p><p>Her pupils suddenly constricted and then got very large.  “That's <em>all</em> you want?  Is for me to fuck you?  You should have just <em>said</em>.  I'll do it.”</p><p>Germany had not expected to hear her say that, and he could feel himself becoming increasingly aroused.  “About the bomb, I'll tell you anyways,” she added, further adding to his torment.  “It <em>was</em> for you.  That was what Pop wanted to do, anyway.  I managed to change his mind, so you can thank me when we’re getting it on later.  Maybe you’ll be able to watch Japan get it right in the kisser.  And you'll see what happens when you piss me off."</p><p>"Careful," he warned.  "Any more of that and I'll make what mein Bruder does to you seem like the sweetest caress."</p><p>"I hate you," she hissed as he shoved her out the door.  "I'm going to <em>kill</em> you.  Wait and see."</p><p>"Such ingratitude for my unprecedented generosity," he mused, enjoying the indignant anger on her face.  He pushed her again, towards the lift.  "Get back to your room.  I'll come to the door when I'm ready for you.  One word to anyone about our little arrangement here and you'll be in for much worse than a mouthful."</p><p>She was gone, like a dark little whirlwind. </p><p>He stood frowning at the spot she had just vacated. Something in the way she spoke told him that he was doing the wrong thing in letting her loose, but he simply couldn't risk Prussia losing sight of the objective.  Their end game was to retain their control of Europe, not steal Denmark's goddamn sweetheart.  But now that he'd had a taste of what she could do, he wanted more.</p><p>He wanted <em> her</em>.</p><p>He didn't wait for Oregon's sleeping pills to knock her out.  Only two hours after his fantastic blowjob, he found himself pacing his office with a raging hard-on.  Finally he could no longer stand the wait and he flung open his door to charge down to the cell-block, but when he opened his door he found himself face to face with Washington.  How had she gotten out?  She looked just as agitated as he felt.</p><p>“I want you <em> right now,” </em> she said, and without another word he hustled her across the compound to his and Prussia's living quarters.  There they would have nothing but privacy.  The second he locked his suite of rooms, she was stripping out of her clothing.  The first thing he noticed, which ought to have alarmed him had he not been so drunk on desire, was that all her wounds had already healed.  </p><p>For a moment he could only stare, transfixed.  She was so <em> beautiful</em>, with a lean body that was also voluptuous.  She had exquisite bone structure both in face and body, and her red hair contrasted perfectly with her grey eyes.  He couldn’t stop staring at her, even as he took her into his arms and they sank onto his bed together, kissing deeply and urgently.  Her hands found his belt and quickly she liberated him of his own clothing.  He took her lying down, so that he could look at her face when he entered her and it was so damn <em>perfect.</em>  Perfect.  <em>She</em> was perfect.  Her eyes fluttered and rolled back into her head as she let out a deep, sensuous moan.  He wanted  to be gentle and sweet with her, but instincts took that idea and chucked it in the bin.  As she arched her head back he snarled and pinned her down, his sharp canines poised to plunge deep into her unclaimed neck.</p><p>“I want you so <em> much</em>, Katrina, mein Gott….” he growled.  </p><p>“Take me,” she moaned.  “Ludwig, please, take me.  I <em> want </em> you.  Ever since I first saw you I wanted you.  I tried to hide it.   I tried to hate you.  But I don't <em> care </em> that we're at war.  I want you <em>so</em> fucking much.  I will give you sons.  I'll give you everything you ever wanted.  Just take me, <em> please.” </em></p><p>"Fuck," he gasped, but he was unable to do it, because when Prussia came back and saw that he had claimed her, they would certainly come to blows.  He pulled back from her neck, but he was going to come anyways.  He did, however, manage to wait for her.  "I can't. ...I can't.  Oh, Mein Gott, Katrina," he moaned, shuddering as she tightened around him and he emptied himself into her.<em>  "Yes."</em></p><p>They lay tangled together in the sheets of his bed, sweaty and sated.  She allowed him to hold her against him, resting her head on his chest, and he touched her hair.  She didn't move away.  Instead she turned her head and kissed him softly on the mouth.  He kissed her back, and this exchange led to another round of sex that was even better than the first.  This time, they changed positions and she rode him lustily, nearly bringing him to orgasm in mere minutes; he forced himself to slow down, wanting it to last.  Finally they had to change position again,  because she was just too good at this, and this time he took her from behind, standing up, in front of his mirror.  They stared into each other's eyes and he actually nipped her neck.  The instant he did, they both came, making so much noise that Austria finally had to interrupt them.  Her transport had been arranged and she was to leave within the hour. </p><p>They stared at each other in the mirror.  "F...fine," Germany managed to say after a moment, keeping his hand over her mouth as she trembled against him.  He was seriously regretting not claiming her.  Their little ones would be perfect and beautiful and stronger than any who'd come before them.  He would rule Europe with her at his side, and with their little ones, the Reich would last much longer than a millennium. </p><p>It would be <em>eternal. </em></p><p>"Ludwig," she whispered, "let go of me.  I need to get dressed.  I forgot to bring anything else to wear."</p><p>"Use my shower," he said.  "My robe is in there, and you can wear that while Roderich finds something for you to wear."</p><p>He was very tempted to join her in the shower, but he knew that if he did, nothing would hold him back from claiming her this time.  So instead of saying to hell with what Prussia wanted and taking what he wanted for himself, he picked up the telephone and called Amerika.</p><p>It was time for battle.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Potsdam/Germany II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Germany realises that Washington is treacherous in every way.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Germany was fairly gloating as he ended his telephone conversation with America.  He had gotten in quite a few gibes about the other's inability to keep track of his own offspring, to which America had responded with a string of foul language that would have withered every green thing on the planet had it not already been blasted away by bombings.</p><p>"I'll see you in Saarbrücken," America promised.  "And you better bring them with you."  He slammed the phone down before Germany could reply.  Oh, he was pleased with himself, but it quickly faded into unease when he realised that once America arrived in Saarbrücken, <em>nothing</em> would stand in the way of him and Berlin.</p><p>He shuddered.  A burst of noise in the corridor brought him back to himself as he remembered that Washington would be leaving within minutes; with Prussia occupied on the other side of the compound she would be able to escape before he could stop her.  But what the <em>hell</em> was going on out there?  Frowning, he yanked his door open and saw Washington standing in the corridor at Oregon's door.  </p><p>Something about the way she stood warned him that she was waiting for him to approach her, and against his better judgement, he did just that, wondering why she was waiting for him.  She turned from the doorway and stared at him.</p><p>He flinched.  He had trouble getting his head around the fact that this was the same woman who not an hour ago had looked at him with fire in her gaze as he made love to her.  Now her eyes were chillingly cold and calculating.  He had seen <em>corpses</em> with more warmth in their eyes.</p><p>"I <em>can't</em> just leave," she began, "without knowing that my sister understands that I don't <em>want</em> to leave her."</p><p>And then he understood that he never should have allowed her to be freed; her fist slammed into his chin once, twice, and he was hitting the floor and she was unceremoniously plucking the keys from his pocket, because of <em>course</em> she would.  Before he could stop her she was dragging him<em>--actually dragging him--</em>into her own cell.  He managed to shove away from her and gain his feet, but he was still stunned from her extremely vicious punches and she quickly grabbed him by the hair and slammed him into the writing table not once but three times, so that he was too dazed to stop her as she slammed the door to the cell, locking it.</p><p>"Sorry, Herr <em>Deutschland</em>, but you <em>never</em> should have allowed me to leave," she smirked.  "You should know that I wouldn't <em>ever</em> leave my sister in this fucking nightmare.  You actually thought that I <em>would!"</em>She shook her head and laughed harshly.  "You fucking gullible little <em>child."</em>  She paused, watching impassively as he struggled to pull himself up.  "You should really stay down, you know," she mused.  "Your brother is <em>not</em> going to be thrilled with you for losing <em>both</em> of us."</p><p>Oregon whispered to her and she smirked.  "Look, Herr Deutschland, how about this?  I'll leave a note absolving you of any involvement in our escape. Huh? Gimme that notebook," she ordered someone, and she wrote the note with a flourish.  "Leave it on Prussia's desk," she instructed whomever had supplied the paper.  Then she looked in at Germany again.  "Next time you see me, I'm going to <em>kill</em> you," she promised, and with that she and Oregon were gone.</p><p>Groaning, he held his aching head in his hands.  This entire experience had been one mistake after another.  He had not expected her to be as strong as she clearly was, which quite possibly had been his <em>first</em> mistake.  His <em>second</em> mistake had been to pity her, and he had sealed his fate with the <em>third</em> (and most grievous) mistake, believing that she actually was attracted to him and trusting her not to turn on him.</p><p>She was no more trustworthy than her sire Russland, he now knew.</p><p>Raised voices signalled Prussia's return to the cell block.  He slammed into the corridor, apoplectic beyond belief.</p><p><em>"Was zum Teufel!"</em> he screamed, glaring at him in outraged disbelief.  He gazed around at the empty cells as if he expected them to speak to him.  When they didn't, he turned back to his brother.  "Ludwig? What in the blue <em>fuck</em> has happened?"</p><p>Austria was there suddenly and managed to say all the right things.  "She surprised him, Gilbert.  Now I seem to remember specifically warning you not to underestimate her.  You should read this," he added, handing Prussia the folded note paper as he unlocked the cell.  Germany staggered out, feeling very lightheaded and nauseated.</p><p>Prussia frowned.  "<em>'See you soon, ob....</em><em>obse</em><em>...'</em>" he began, squinting at Washington's illegible scrawl.  Germany took the note and scanned it.</p><p>"<em>'Obsequious cretins'</em>," he read.  He flung the note at Prussia's feet.  "It's for you."</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Peenemünde /South Italy (Romano)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Romano brings Washington and Oregon back to France.  Or tries to.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For once, South Italy was glad his sister was hopelessly devoted to the goddamn Potato Bastard.  </p><p>It made it much easier to get information about the fucking cocksucker's movements, which he could then relay to America.  At first he had been hesitant, because he felt that it had taken the goddamn Hero Bastard maybe a little too long to get his ass over here, but America was his friend and he wasn't really angry.  </p><p>Besides, as soon as America told him that the goddamn German fratelli had Washington, nothing would stop him from helping to get her out of their nefarious clutches.  It helped that he had the connections that he did, because they allowed him to travel unhindered throughout Europe even though he had finally declared for the Allies.  Germany might think he could get away with trying to strangle <em>him</em>, but there was no <em>way</em> the stupid idiot was going to survive kicking the hornets nest that was America and Russia closing in on both sides.  Having Washington as a captive was quite possibly the most stupid of all that Hun bastard's ideas <em>ever</em>.  Not only would America want her back, but <em>both</em> Russia and Finland would also be holding guns to Germany's perfect, cretinous head.</p><p>So he set out at dawn for the southern border of Germany, where Austria would be bringing her.  Apparently Germany had had enough of her and was sneaking her away before his brother could find out.  According to Venezia, whatever she had done was driving everyone crazy, but Prussia especially.  </p><p>"Now listen to me, Romano," Austria said before he even saw the bastard.  "Just get in the driver's seat of that truck and get out of here.  She's in the back, and she doesn't know that it's you who will be escorting her.  Oregon is with her," be added.  "Now.  Venezia told Germany that she had got Bavaria to do this, but everyone knows that nobody has seen him in nearly five years, so I don't know why he just took her word.  Get them out of here, Romano.  Washington will come back soon enough to kill us all."</p><p>"Don't give me orders, you pompous bastard," Romano snarled.  "Fuck off.  I'm not doing this for anyone but Katrina."</p><p>He was furious.  He knew his gattina was in the back of the truck he was driving and he knew she had been a captive of that Albino bastard for quite a while, but what he <em>didn't</em> know was what shape she was in now.  Who knew what those evil monsters had done to her?</p><p>Finally he couldn't stand it anymore and stopped the truck.  He could hear them scrambling against the cab of the truck to hide from him; she probably thought he was going to hurt her.  He slammed the doors of the bed open and jumped up into the back. She and Oregon held each other tightly, but then she stared up at him in relief and cried out his name as he grabbed her up into his arms.</p><p>“Lovino, I'm sorry,” she sobbed, and he held her close, rocking her.  She held on as if she was drowning.  “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”</p><p>He murmured into her hair, petting her, until she stopped shaking.  It was so out of character for her to cry or apologize for anything at all that he knew this was very serious.  Gently he began to kiss her, breathing her in.  Her skin tasted like heartbreak and mourning.  He found he couldn't bear it and pulled a wool blanket around them and as the rain pattered onto the canvas roof he quietly listened to her horrible story of captivity, however brief it had been.  </p><p>"I wish I could shoot myself in the fucking head right now," she muttered, causing Oregon to cry out in alarm.</p><p>“Why, gattina?” he asked, confused about this one thing.  “If you wait for this fucking mess to end, you can be with your Viking.  You love him.”</p><p>She seemed to close in upon herself.  When Oregon tried to comfort her, she pushed her away, and Romano felt his face burning.  “He <em>won't</em> love me if he knows what I have done with Prussia and Germany, Lovino.  I was supposed to be his and I let them do whatever they <em>wanted</em> to me.  And I <em>liked</em> it.  He won't <em>want</em> to claim me now.”</p><p>“No, gattina, that's not true,” Romano exclaimed.  “He will understand.  They forced you and they hurt you.  It doesn't matter if you liked it.  Of <em>course</em> you did. You're <em>supposed</em> to like it.”</p><p>She stared up at him.  “You won't hurt me.”</p><p>“Never,” he swore.  “But, Katrina, I don't want to hurt him, either, and if I take you for myself it <em>will</em> hurt him. I can't do that.”</p><p>Then she said something that nearly broke his heart. <em>“You</em> don't want me either.”</p><p>“That's not true,” he insisted.  “I want you as much as I did when you first grew up right in front of me."  He cleared his throat, feeling very conspicuous with Oregon right there.  "But wanting isn't <em>love,</em> gattina.  I know that you love someone else and it would not be fair to either of you for me to be selfish.”</p><p>She turned to him and buried her face in his shoulder.  “Then don't just take it.  I'm <em>giving</em> it to you!  Don't let <em>them</em> get me, Lovi.  If you don't want me then they'll know and they'll come after me!”</p><p>"Katrina, I can't <em>do</em> that," he insisted.  "Alfredo will not allow it, even though it's an emergency situation.  Believe me when I tell you that nothing would make me happier than to have you at my side and have little ones with you.  I've <em>always</em> wanted that.  But you <em>aren't</em> mine to take.  Denmark <em>loves</em> you," he said, quietly and firmly.  "It's not that simple as me slapping him with a glove and having a duel at dawn."  He looked away,  ashamed.  "I have nothing to offer you, gattina," he admitted.  "My nation is in ruins because of this war, and it will be a long time before things are back to any semblance of normalcy.  I am going to need help if I want to make it out of this alive."</p><p>"Lovino, Alfred will help you.  You're his friend," Washington insisted.  "And <em>I</em> can help you.  I'll set up places in my cities and towns for Italian children and families to come over and stay for however long they like.  And American children can send things to your people who need food and clothing."</p><p>His eyes burned with tears.  "Gattina," he managed to say,  his voice breaking.  Even now she thought of his needs first.  "You shouldn't--"</p><p>"I <em>want</em> to," she said firmly.  "Someday I will have a little one, and I want him to hear good things about his mother.  I don't want to save the world, but I <em>do</em> want to save you."  She shook her head free of the blanket and frowned, peering out into the darkness.  "Where are we?"</p><p>"Just outside of Peenemünde," he replied.  "Alfredo is almost to Paris.  Oregon?  Did they hurt you too?"</p><p>Oregon scowled.  "Just knowing what was going on with Kate was bad enough.  But no," she added.  "They never laid a hand on me."</p><p>"Before I left Potsdam Germany let me contact one person, and I picked England, because he can help me get back there and he'll tell everyone else that I'm okay," Washington added.  "Have you seen my Uncle Matt, Lovi?  I haven't heard from him since St. Lô."</p><p>"You mean Canada?  Yeah, I saw him three weeks ago in Arnhem.  I tried to help them," he added, ashamed of his failure.  "Those fucking monsters annihilated the entire town."  He frowned.  "What do you mean, 'get back there'?  Get back <em>where?</em>  To fucking <em>Potsdam?</em>  Jesus Christ, <em>why?"</em></p><p>Oregon glared at her sister as it suddenly dawned on her why she'd wanted to escape.  "You <em>can't!</em>  I'll ...I'll tell Daddy.  I'll tell him you...you...Kate, come to Paris with me!  Romano," she exclaimed, "tell her she <em>has</em> to come back with me!"</p><p>But Romano knew better than to open <em>that</em> particular can of worms.  He also knew that America would <em>not</em> like hearing that he had lost Washington, but at least he could bring Oregon back to him.  "Look, I can't risk driving you back, so you'll have to figure it out for yourself," he muttered in Italian, and she shrugged, not seeing a problem.  But she made him promise not to say a word about it to anyone.  When he did, she turned back to fix her sister with a glare that was not altogether sane.</p><p>"I can't go to France with you, Daria," she said.  "I need to spend some time with my isä.  In Helsinki.  Can you take me to the ferry, Lovi?"  She shook her head once when Oregon tried to object.  "Listen to me, Daria.  I don't need you to remind me of my obligations to Pop, or Uncle Matt, or <em>any</em> of those imbeciles you call siblings," she said.  "I promised Prussia that he will pay for what he did to me.  Have I ever <em>not</em> followed through on a promise, Daria?"</p><p>"No," Oregon muttered, looking terrified.  She turned and stared at him, clearly hoping that he would intervene.  But he couldn't.  Without a word he jumped out and got back into the driver's seat.  He still had to get into France, and the sun would soon be rising.</p><p>"I'll tell you where to stop," Washington snapped through the closed cab window, and he sighed, closing his eyes.</p><p>How he <em>hated</em> that fucking Potato Bastard.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Paris/France+Oregon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>France and Oregon meet in Paris for the first time in a hundred years.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>France</p><p> </p><p>He stood at the Arc de Triomphe, with Amérique and Angleterre, finally bearing witness to what he sincerely believed was the greatest moment in recent French history. </p><p>They had won back his beautiful city.  All around him church bells tolled, two different bands played the same song, and his wonderful people were weeping with joy for the first time in five years.</p><p>He had not doubted that this day would ever come,  but there had been times when he feared that it would take decades.  Certainly until December 7, 1941, he had not counted on his son to enter the war.  Amérique had wanted to remain neutral so badly.  But even before Japan attacked him, he had slowly begun to assist Angleterre with more and more supplies.  And so France had known that it was only a matter of time.</p><p>"Daddy!"  A young woman called out.  Intrigued by her light, musical voice, France turned to see who was calling out.  "Papa!"</p><p>To his surprise, the voice belonged to the most exquisite creature France had ever laid eyes upon.  And the people she called to were none other than Amérique and Angleterre.  They both hurried towards her, grabbing her up into their arms, and she held onto them in such exhausted relief that France knew without a doubt that she hadn't seen them at all before today and hadn't known if they were even safe.  From the looks of them, they were going through the same feelings. </p><p>Her eyes rested on him as he glided gracefully towards the three of them, and her cheeks flushed pink.  Of course, he remembered her:  before the landings took place, he had gone over to Southampton in the disguise of an RAF officer, and after getting permission from a rather intoxicated Angleterre, he had taken the lovely girl to dinner and had found out her name.</p><p>Daria.</p><p>His heart ached at the beauty of her.  She was speaking to Amérique, looking as though she were fighting tears, and both Amérique and Angleterre quickly moved to comfort her.  Amérique saw him over her shoulder and beckoned to him.</p><p>"Francis, this is my Daria," he introduced, and the young woman quickly pulled herself together and gave him a graceful, polite curtsey.  Delighted with her already, France took her hand and gently kissed it, never taking his eyes from hers.</p><p>"I am honored to meet you, Monsieur Bonnefoy," she said, her eyes telling him that it was much more than honor that she felt.</p><p>"Mais non, the honor is all mine," he replied.  "Many have told me of your bravery.  All of France is in your lovely hands."</p><p>Perhaps that was a bit too much to say, because after that, both Amérique and Angleterre quickly separated the two of them--without actually physically separating them.  But France knew that he was not to attempt <em>any</em> flirtation, especially with Angleterre nearby.  Daria, who he now knew was Oregon, had just given her sires the unpleasant news that although she and her sister, the red-haired Washington, had been together in Strasbourg after her return from Finland, they had become separated.  She had not seen Washington since, much to her distress.  When Amérique asked her if she had any idea where Washington might have gone, or why, Oregon quickly looked away.</p><p>"No, Daddy," she said softly.  "But I thought she'd be okay if she went to visit her dad.  You know, Finland," she added, knowing that he would freak out if Washington went to visit Russia.  "So I....Even when she didn't come back to the hotel after she said she'd be back I wasn't really worried.  But when she didn't show up when Uncle Mattie came to take us through to Paris, I knew something was wrong.  Especially when Uncle Mattie sent out an APB."</p><p>Amérique had then contacted Finland, who confirmed that Washington had been there, but she had since left and he didn't know where she was headed.  France could see the frustration on Amérique's face and wondered what Oregon was hiding.</p><p>The poor thing, France thought, she was terrified for her sister...because she knew <em>exactly</em> where she was.  As soon as he got the chance, he leaned over to her.</p><p>"You know where she is, ma belle," he murmured against her hair, keeping an eye on his son and Angleterre.  They were well in their cups and he could have taken his lovely little treasure somewhere else to get to know her better, but he chose to respect her sires, and her.  "I think maybe you should tell them, especially if she's in danger."</p><p>"But I promised that I wouldn't tell," Oregon whispered back.</p><p>France remembered the state in which Washington had come to him, and shook his head in despair.  "She is in danger if she has gone to confront the one who hurt her, ma belle," he warned.</p><p>Sure enough, Oregon looked away and bit her lips.  France was struck by the sweetness of her face, and wanted nothing more than to kiss those worried lips.</p><p>"What should I do?" she pleaded.</p><p><em>Come home with me,</em> France thought.  "You must tell them, ma belle.  If she is to be rescued, the sooner they know what happened, the better.  Already she could be anywhere.  But the longer she is with him--if I am correctly assuming that she is with Prusse and his frère--the more difficult it will be to get her away from him."</p><p>At the bar, Angleterre fell from his stool and Oregon was immediately on her feet, rushing to her Papa's aid.  As she and Amérique helped him upstairs to his rooms, France gazed with longing at the empty chair she had sat in.</p><p>Never before had he been so affected by a woman.  He had seen her before, as a little one, but he had not expected her to grow up and be so very perfect for him.  He regretted that they had to meet under these circumstances, but as with any situation, good could still be found.  They would meet again, surely.  There was no way that he would allow her to slip away without at least becoming better acquaintances.</p><p>Non.  Not just acquaintances.  He must, he knew, get Amérique's permission, but he fully intended to not only get to know her but also to claim her heart.  She would be his, for he was already hers.</p><p>Oregon</p><p>She had never seen such jubilation.  People were laughing, weeping, singing in joy.  Arms were thrown about her, completely foreign people kissing her cheeks and offering theirs for her to kiss.  Even though the war was not anywhere <em>near</em> over, these Parisians acted as if it may as well be, for their city was free again for the first time in five years.  It was a momentous day.  And through it all she saw America, handsome and shining and victorious, standing at the Arc de Triomphe with her papa and an exquisite man she was certain she had never seen before, but he seemed familiar somehow.</p><p>"Daddy! Papa!" she called.  Both America and England turned to her, and America's eyes searched briefly for Washington, who should have been at her side.  Despite the celebration, her heart jacked painfully.  No matter what, she couldn't tell them.  She had promised her sister that she wouldn't tell anyone what Washington was up to.  She had been certain that she could get to Germany and Prussia first, and Oregon believed her.  When Washington was determined to get something, she got it, no matter <em>what</em> the cost.</p><p>So she lied.</p><p>Instead of making things easier, and perhaps even enabling them to rescue Washington, Oregon told her daddy and papa that Washington had simply gone missing, with no indication that she had been taken in violence.  After all, it <em>was</em> true that she hadn't been taken against her will.  Washington knew that America would be <em>furious</em> if he knew she'd gone to Helsinki and come back without checking in with him, and Washington had made her promise not to say anything.  But when she saw the look on her Daddy's face, she regretted telling him.  Now he was going to worry and it would take his mind away from what was coming next--the push to cross the Saar.</p><p>She was about to apologize to her Daddy when he turned her towards none other than the beautiful man she had seen with him. </p><p>Introducing her as Daria, America beamed at her with pride.  She felt the very atmosphere around them begin to crackle.  This gorgeous man was France himself.  And he was looking at her in a way <em>nobody</em> had ever looked at her before.</p><p>She liked it.</p><p>They went to dinner, where her parents were at first very careful to chaperone everything that she did or said.  It was quite embarrassing, because she was really a grown woman now, and she wanted to be experienced in the ways of women and men.  France was obviously well-versed in those things, and she found herself staring at his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss him and be kissed by him.  There was a strange ache in her middle that only increased when he leaned over and spoke in her ear.</p><p><em>Please take me home with you,</em> she thought, but then her Papa fell from his seat and she had to help her Daddy carry him upstairs, leaving France at the restaurant.  When she returned, full of apologies, he was very gracious.</p><p>"Do not think of it, ma belle," he said, giving her a knowing smile.  "I have known Angleterre for many years.  This happens often."</p><p>Did he <em>really</em> think of her that way? she wondered, or was that simply the way that he spoke?  She was afraid to ask him, but she hoped that he really <em>did</em> consider her his beautiful one.</p><p>That night she dreamt of him, and when she woke up just before dawn, she was filled with such a tension that she had never felt before.  Her hand drifted down to her sex, which felt strangely full; slowly, softly, she touched the small bud, and as she caressed herself she closed her eyes, seeing Francis Bonnefoy looking down at her; in her dreamlike state it was <em>his</em> hand, not hers, that brought her to ecstasy.  She gasped his name into the darkness of her room, wishing that the dream would become reality.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Arnhem/Canada</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Canada, having experienced the failure of  Operation Market Garden, goes into isolation to self-medicate and sees a ghost.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Germans were gone.</p><p>Canada shoved his helmet back and tilted his face up, feeling the cold droplets of rain strike his hot cheeks.  It had been a disaster of epic proportions and he was exhausted.</p><p>The mission was doomed from the start, with his joint force with England missing the mark and going a bridge too far.  This had infuriated him, because he had warned England that they would not be able to surround the Germans in Arnhem if the Germans knew that they were coming.  The enraged German Army had subsequently destroyed the entire town, and Canada had been helpless to stop it.  By the time they had managed to drive the enemy out, the death toll had reached catastrophic numbers.</p><p>He had later found Nederland and had propositioned him.  Lars had gladly sold him the drugs that he wanted in exchange for financial assistance and help in rebuilding the town.  After all, Canada couldn't help but put some of the responsibility on himself.  If he hadn't fucked up--if he had done it the way they had intended to, instead of attempting to be sneaky--they would have been able to liberate the Netherlands without a large loss of life.</p><p>Well, that was out of the question <em>now</em>, wasn't it?</p><p>Now he was here, and he had no idea where America was, or any of his children.  Oregon and Washington were rumored to be captives of Germany, and his heart broke as he imagined what they most certainly would have been subjected to.</p><p>He drifted off into Heroin World, only to open his eyes and look upon a dark shadow standing in the doorway.  But he could barely move his arm to lift his weapon.  "Achtung," he muttered, seeing only the black coat with its Nazi insignia.</p><p>"Shut up, Uncle Matt," Washington's raspy voice snaked into his ear.  "I need you to find England for me.  Tell him I need his help.  I can't stay," she added, as she swam into focus.  But when he tried to touch her, his hand went right through her.</p><p>"Tell England I'm here," she repeated.  "I'll be at Nederland's house waiting.  I don't have much time."</p><p>He came fully awake in an instant, surging up in alarm.  The mist from outside had finally begun to seep through the shattered building, and he could feel--actually feel--Washington's gestalt signature shimmering like a spark in the darkness.  But there was no one there; no sign, either, that anyone else had been there.  That was how it was with her, he remembered.  Quickly he gathered himself and hustled out to the train station, where England stood with his general.  As soon as England saw him, he quickly excused himself and hurried over to him.</p><p>"Matthew, what on earth happened?  You look as though you have seen a ghost!"</p><p>Canada gulped, realising that his throat had completely locked.  He coughed.  "Washington is here.  She asked me to find you and tell you that she needs your help," he began.  England stared at him in shock.</p><p>"What?" he whispered.  "But...how would she have <em>gotten</em> here?"  He frowned.  "Matthew, you are higher than a kite.  America didn't say a <em>word</em> about it to me; of course she isn't <em>here--"</em></p><p>"She's with Nederland," he insisted, remembering what she'd told him.  "She wants to talk to you."  He watched as England made his way towards the tall house that was Nederland's, and just before he turned away, he caught sight of Washington's dark red hair as she came out of the house to meet England face to face.  He stood and stared at nothing, not wanting to entertain the notion that perhaps he was going mad.</p><p>England was right.  There was no reason for her presence here and they would have been notified by someone if she was coming.  The last he had heard, Washington and Oregon had both been captured, so how would she have escaped?</p><p>He frowned deeply.  England had not said that Washington couldn't have escaped; he had said that America hadn't told him that Washington was coming here.  That meant that he had already known that she was no longer captive.  He expected no less, and was glad she seemed to be in one piece.  But what was she planning?  She must have something on her mind, because why else would she need England's help?  They barely associated with each other.</p><p>"Uncle Matt."</p><p>Startled, he swung around to find himself face to face with Washington.  She had lost a considerable amount of weight, and her cheekbones were even more striking than ever.  "My God, kitten, what happened?" he exclaimed.  "Where is your sister?"</p><p>"Oregon's with France," she said.  "They just left Paris a few weeks ago.  Pop and England helped him get Paris back.  I guess Pop's on a rampage because he found out Germany caught me.  They're getting ready to push across the Saar."  She sighed.  "Even though Patton is a fucking juggernaut I'm afraid it won't be for months.  There's all sorts of shit going on.  The weather most of all."</p><p>"It'll happen," Canada said.  "Where did you go?  I came to take you both to Paris and I couldn't find you.  We assumed the worst."</p><p>"I went to visit my isä, Uncle Matt.  I had to go somewhere where I could heal.  Prussia fucked me up pretty bad," she said, and he was struck by how haunted she looked.  </p><p>"Where are you going now?" he asked, knowing full well that she had something up her sleeve.</p><p>She paced restlessly.  "I need to get to Berlin, Uncle Matt.  I'm stuck here until England can leave, so I can help you out for a while."</p><p>"I appreciate it," Canada said.  Then he thought of something.  "Wait a second, Kate.  I was under the impression that both you and Oregon were captives, so why didn't you go with her to France so that America knows you're both safe?" </p><p>"Too risky," Washington said.  "You forget how close Pop and that awful motherfucker Prussia are.  If Pop thinks I'm still with him, Prussia will have no reason to think I'm a threat.  He'll think I'm hiding, preferably here.  Surely you don't think they have no spies here."</p><p>Canada nodded thoughtfully.  "I was wondering why you weren't wearing a helmet.  Your red hair is well-known."  He gestured.  "Come on, I'll get you some chow."</p><p>She snorted.  "I don't want food.  I want some of that dope you've got."  When he frowned in disapproval, she insisted.  "I haven't slept for a fucking <em>month</em>.  It's been less than terrific.  I <em>deserve</em> to nod out."</p><p>"Fine," he sighed, shaking his head.  He gestured to the exposed staircase.  "Up there."</p><p>She shot him a smile as she took the stairs two at a time.  "You're the best, Uncle Matt," she said.</p><p>Sure.  Sure he was.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Ville des chats/ Oregon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She could hear them approach from far away, the sounds of quietly marching soldiers reaching her ears like the soft rustling of suffocating fabric.  She turned and fled down the street, to the closest house with lights still on.  Without bothering to knock or announce herself, she burst inside, frightening the woman and her three children nearly to death.</p><p>"You have to get out of here, now," she said, urgently.  They looked at her blankly, not understanding.  She wasn't sure if it was because they didn't understand her French or if it was because they didn't consider the fact that even though they were supposedly liberated, the war was still very much in progress.  And she didn't have time to explain it to them.  <em>"Leave! </em> Take nothing but yourselves.  <em>Get out of here!" </em> She herded them outside, gesturing to the east.  "They're going to kill all of you," she insisted.  "They know you're free now and they aren't happy about it <em>one bit!"</em>  Finally, realisation dawned on the mother's face and she fled the house with the children in tow. </p><p>Oregon went from house to house, the sounds of the approaching Germans ever closer, until she was so completely overwhelmed that she didn't know if she could speak French for another second.  But then, she remembered what had happened in that other village and she knew she couldn't allow it to happen here.  She had find Ruitenbeek.  He was here somewhere,  billeted with a local family.  Frantically she knocked on doors until she came to a tall, dark house with a single lit window.  When she knocked on this door, the light moved downstairs,  so she knew it was a candle.  When the door opened, she saw in amazement that it was France.  For a moment she could only stare at him, captivated.  Then she rushed forward.  "I'm looking for someone, Monsieur Bonnefoy," she gasped.  "Jeffrey Ruitenbeek.  I need his help!"</p><p>France reached out to steady her.  "Calm down, ma belle," he murmured.  "You are terrified.  I know where he is; he is here.  What is happening?"</p><p>"They're coming," she said.  "The Germans are coming to kill everyone in this village.  We have to get them out!  Everyone's assembling in the church.  I told them not to, but they won't listen to me!  They'll listen to you.  Bring Jeff and help me get them out of here!"</p><p>Without another word, France went back upstairs and came back with Ruitenbeek, who looked sleepy but determined to help her.  "They've all been told what is happening," Oregon said as they headed to the church.  The entire population was there, spilling out into the cemetery.  "They're almost here.  There's no time to go into it with them!"</p><p>Ruitenbeek spoke French much better than she, and together with France they were able to quickly coordinate the complete exodus of the village.  France knew the land so intimately that he easily led them in total darkness into the forest nearby, where there were two large copses of dark conifers whose branches formed natural tunnels.  When he returned to Oregon and Ruitenbeek, the first of the Germans had just arrived and discovered that the village was entirely deserted.  The three of them huddled together and listened to the enraged Germans arguing about whether or not to torch the village,  and France was visibly relieved when they finally decided not to.  As the last of them disappeared back in the direction from which they had come, Ruitenbeek whispered to France,  "Should we go get em and take them back home?"</p><p>"Non, we must wait until morning," France warned.  "They may still have spies in the dark watching.  So you must do something for me, mon ami," he added.  "Go back to the livery and get a horse.  You must  ride to Rouen.  My son is there.   His name is Matthieu.  I need you to tell him that his brother is alive and we are going to find Katrina."</p><p>Ruitenbeek looked at Oregon, alarmed.  "That's your sister's name," he began.  "She's here, too?  What happened to her?"</p><p>"The devil has her," France said, darkly.  "But we are going to get her back."  He watched as Ruitenbeek took off at a dead run for the stables, and then he turned and saw Oregon trembling against the church.</p><p>"Chérie," he began, reaching out to her.  Unlike her sister, she didn't flinch away from him.  Oregon <em>wanted</em> him to touch her.  She <em>needed</em> him to touch her.  Maybe it took him a little by surprise when she pulled him firmly towards her.   But he did not hesitate in the slightest to put his arms around her in return.  It seemed to Oregon that she fit in them perfectly.  He gave her a knowing look and tried to talk her out of whatever she had in mind, if not for her virtue's sake then for America's. </p><p>"You are young, ma belle Oregon," he began, but she had been ready for that.  In response she reminded him that her sister was younger.  France's face darkened. </p><p>"You do not know this, but your sister did not want to be experienced in that way, chérie," he said, quietly.  "That hateful Prussia forced himself on her.  I saw her afterwards, and he was very brutal with her."</p><p>"And I do not want that to happen to me for my first time, Francis," she replied, feeling her face grow warm.  "But I do want it to be with someone who is passionate and will treat me like a woman, not a little girl.  I'm not a little girl anymore, and I want you."  Her face felt as though it might burst into flames.  "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you in Paris."</p><p>He brushed a trembling thumb over her mouth.  "Nor I, you," he confessed in a shaking voice.  "You have not even been kissed," he murmured, his eyes flickering.  "How can that be, when you are so very lovely?"</p><p>A strange ache nearly brought her to her knees.  "I don't know," she admitted.  "Am I lovely?"  People always said that about her, but she never really believed them.  They said she was perfect and lovely and that America was lucky to have her for a daughter, but what if they were lying?  "Am I beautiful, Francis?"</p><p>"Oui," he whispered, and then brought his lips to hers.</p><p>She had imagined being kissed before.  She had even asked Washington what it had felt like to kiss Denmark and Romano.  But Washington had been shy about telling her, and now she understood why.  Being kissed was nothing like what she had imagined.  Her knees buckled and she gasped, but when her mouth opened, France didn't immediately force his tongue into her mouth.  He gently lifted her up and drew slightly back, waiting for her to give him permission to continue.  She nodded quickly and he took her into the dark church, where there was a small apartment for the vicar.  It was furnished, but the vicar did not live there at the moment, he told her between removing their clothing and coming together in the dark room.  Before they continued,  France made her stop for a moment.</p><p>"I will not mark you unless you want me to, because that will make this permanent, ma chérie, and I understand if you do not wish to be with me after this is all over," he said.  "You also are fortunate that you do not need to worry about little ones.  Even if I claim you, you will not become pregnant unless you want to."</p><p>"I...but I'm not like that, Francis," she managed to say.  She knew that was one of the differences between Washington and herself.  Washington needed to be claimed before she could get pregnant, but she had no control over it after that.  Oregon didn't even need a partner to have a little one.  Citizen personifications could spawn.  "I'm not just trying to get the first time out of the way.  I do want...want it to be with you.  I would let you mark me," she added, trembling.  "No...no little ones, but I'm not ready for that.  You can mark me," she repeated.  "I want you to mark me."</p><p>He stared at her in the darkness and she wished she could see his face better to know how he felt about that.  But then she felt him very hard and very large against her, and with a low moan he pressed forward until she stiffened, and he immediately stopped, but she reached down and took him in her hand, guiding him even though he probably didn't need help.  He was hard and throbbing and it made her feel <em>very</em> slippery.  </p><p>"This will be uncomfortable, ma belle, and I am sorry," he breathed in her ear, but she looked at him trustingly and he kissed her deeply as he thrust into her.  Her body arched in response, but it wasn't a horrible pain at all, and nearly immediately she found a perfect rhythm with him.  It was as if they had done this a thousand times before.  Now she understood what she had felt in Paris when she had first met him; now, that feeling multiplied by tenfold and whatever it did to her, it also did to France, because the wetness of her sex increased and he began to thrust harder and faster.  His cock seemed to get even harder, and he began to cry out in French that he wanted to claim her, to <em>please</em> let him claim her--</p><p>A strange,  intense pressure began to build up inside her, like a deep itch that was finally getting scratched.  She couldn't speak: it took her very breath.  Finally she threw back her head and let out a deep, guttural moan, exposing her neck to him, and he immediately sank his teeth in to the gums, releasing inside of her.</p><p>"Je t'aime," he gasped, crushing her to him.  He began to weep.  "Ma belle Daria, je t'aime."</p><p>She brought a trembling hand to his hair.  He was still inside of her, and she didn't want him to ever pull out of her.  He was so warm and it felt so <em>safe</em>.  "Je t'aime aussi," she whispered back, and he let out a small sob, burying his head in her breasts.  She stroked his hair as he brought his lips to one of her nipples and a jolt like electricity went through her as he began to suckle.  His tongue curled around the rock-hard nipple gently and he grew hard inside of her again.  They made love until dawn, when the faint sound of Ruitenbeek's horse began to reach them.  </p><p>"I had to have a little talk with him, ma belle," France confessed.  "When I saw the way that he was looking at you I feared that he would try to move in and steal your heart before I had the chance to show you what love is.  I had to tell him that you are mine."</p><p>Startled, Oregon watched their fingers twine together.  "But that would mean that you planned this all along," she murmured.  "Did you?"  Her heart pounded with excitement.  Nobody had ever wanted her before, and certainly not enough to threaten another male, however lightly. </p><p>"Oui, I admit that I did," he said, giving her a sheepish smile.  "He is a mortal human, and wouldn't ordinarily have been able to understand the truth about you, but I think I have managed to explain it sufficiently.  He is a good man, Daria--I knew that already because he wanted you.  So I knew that I could trust him with the truth.  I could not stop thinking of you since Paris.  I wanted to claim you for myself that very night, but Angleterre and Amérique kept me away from you."  He reached up and touched the rapidly  healing bite on her neck.  "You cannot hide this scar, mon amour.  Unfortunately there is nothing that can conceal it, and Amérique will know that it is my mark.  We will need to discuss this with him as soon as possible."</p><p>She knew there would be no avoiding it, but she dreaded America's disapproval.  What if he was angry at her or France?  She would have to tell him that she had consented fully, she thought.  As the villagers finally returned to their homes, France watched them with tears in his eyes.</p><p> "Do you believe in God, ma chérie?"  France asked her, and she paused to consider briefly before turning her face away. </p><p>"No," she said, quietly.  When she looked back at him, she could see his blue eyes dark with emotion.  He was grateful and despite everything that had happened to him he still had his faith.  How could he, after all they had seen?  Didn't he realise that his God was dead, and had never cared about any of them in the first place?  They had all been sent to Hell long ago and nobody had cared.  She thought of her sister, and what had happened to her, and shook her head.  "Not anymore."  She hesitated and looked unhappily at her feet for a moment.  France noticed her silence and asked her something that she didn't quite hear over the pounding of her own heart.  "What?"</p><p>"You are safe here," he said.  "Why do I have the feeling that you are planning to leave?"</p><p>She shifted restlessly.  "Because I <em>have</em> to," she muttered.  "Washington is on her way to Berlin right now, and I don't want her to get there and have no fucking backup.  I've got to go," she sighed.  "And... well, <em>someone</em> has to try to warn Prussia that he is making a huge mistake trying to get her to be loyal to him.  If I get to him first I might be able to get through to him, since he's not interested in me.  The truth is, Francis, Washington <em>has</em> no loyalty.  Except maybe to Denmark.  She says that it makes us weak.  And maybe she's right," Oregon added.  "Look, don't tell Daddy or Papa where I have gone."</p><p>He looked outraged.  "Why do you care about whether he listens to you?  He <em>hurt</em> her.  He <em>deserves</em> to be punished for it."</p><p>"He is one of Daddy's oldest friends," Oregon reminded him.  "You don't understand about Washington.  She isn't like the rest of my siblings.  She hates like it's <em>love,</em> Francis.  Do you know what I mean?  <em>She doesn't forget.</em>  Prussia and Germany fought with Denmark a hundred fucking years ago, and when Washington found out about it, she wanted to kill them both.  And she <em>did</em> try to.  Prussia came to see her once when she was a little one and after that, Daddy had to keep them away from her.  So Prussia forgot how dangerous she is."  She bit her lip.  "I'd rather see Daddy deal with punishing him than Washington doing it.  She might kill him.  Daddy won't."</p><p>France laughed gently.  "Mon amour, we cannot be killed by conventional means."</p><p>She looked at him darkly.  "Washington <em>knows</em> what will kill us.  <em>Trust</em> me on this.  She'll do it and will <em>not</em> regret it."  She raised her voice and called to Ruitenbeek.  "I need a favour!  Can you get me into Germany?"</p><p>He looked from her to France and back.  "Of course," he said.  "I can get a vehicle from a farm that's about a mile from here.  I scoped it already.  You want to come with me then?"</p><p>"Daria!"  France exclaimed.  "I <em>demand</em> you to think about this!"</p><p>"I <em>have</em> thought about it," she replied.  "And I have come to the realisation that I have no other choice.  My sister is going to kill them <em>both</em> if I don't stop her.  I don't think that is the solution to end the war.  Do you?"  She turned to Ruitenbeek and nodded.  "Let's go."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ville des chats is a fictional village, and it is what I would have wished for Ourador-sur-Glane, a real village where the opposite happened. Unfortunately, every last living soul in that village was destroyed by the SS.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Entschede/England</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Against his better judgement, England agrees to help Washington get to Berlin.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"C'mon, Arthur, I don't have a lot of time," Washington said impatiently as a hungover England struggled to keep his head on straight.  "And neither do you, actually.  None of these cretins can lie for shit and Pop will figure it out who's missing the second he talks to you."</p><p>Glaring, England wished she would be more like Oregon and be content to push through from Paris on into the East.  But it was Washington, and she was absolutely hell-bent on getting to Berlin first.  She sighed and pulled him to his feet.</p><p>"Look, I <em>told</em> you why," she reminded him.  Still quite drunk, he tried to kiss her and she easily held him off, grimacing.  "Cut it <em>out,</em> England.  I am not <em>nearly</em> high enough to let you paw me like that!  Do it again and I'll punch you," she warned, and he managed to pull himself together.  But by now it was obvious that he was simply far too intoxicated to get anything done.  So she told him she would be back in a few hours.  "Hopefully by then you're a little more sober.  You're probably a lot of fun when you're not pissed."</p><p>He only realized what she had said after she had left the room. </p><p>She came back as promised, and he was indeed sober.</p><p>"I still do <em>not</em> understand why you insist upon this, Washington.  It's madness," he told her, but she just waved his opinion aside.</p><p>"When my papa finds out what Prussia did to me, he'll be furious, and I want to be able to inflict some damage before he makes that insufferable bastard wish he'd never laid eyes on me.  I want to make him regret it myself," she added.</p><p>England shook his head.  "Washington, this is <em>extremely</em> dangerous," he warned.</p><p>"Well he isn't interested in <em>Oregon</em>, Arthur," Washington pointed out.  "If I look like her I stand a better chance of getting away with what I've got planned.  Those idiots have <em>no</em> idea," she added, smirking.  "Did you know that there is a network of tunnels from Potsdam all the way into Berlin?"</p><p>"I'd heard the rumours," England murmured.  He sighed in resignation. "Fine, all right.  Is that your only tattoo?" he wondered, gazing at Sweden's handiwork in a mixture of jealousy and fascination.</p><p>"No, I got em on most of my back," she confessed, shrugging out of her blouse to show him.  For a moment he stared at her back in silence.  It was a good thing for Sweden that he was homosexual, England thought; if it had been himself doing those tattoos on Washington's body, there was simply no way he would be able to keep from molesting her.</p><p>"Do you have them anywhere else?" he asked finally.</p><p>"Yes," she replied and turned around without buttoning her blouse.  He stared at her in surprise, feeling his cock grow nearly painfully hard at the sight of her lovely body.   Both arms were liberally inked with Viking designs.  Her chest was also tattooed, and she wasn't wearing a brassiere; the reason for this was not only did she not really need one--her breasts were large, perfectly formed and beautiful--but also, there was a fresh tattoo on her décolletage.</p><p>She smiled.  "Do you like it?"</p><p>He cleared his throat, but his voice still croaked.  "They're...ah, very nice," he managed.  "Sweden did a very good job on you...on them for you," he corrected himself.</p><p>She gave him a coy look.  "Is that a hard-on, Arthur?" she asked, in a surprisingly alluring voice.  Quite suddenly he wanted to tear off the rest of her clothes and fuck her senseless.</p><p>"Maybe," he said, and her eyes widened along with that smile.  Then he shook himself and tried to get back under control.  "All right, that's <em>enough,"</em> he insisted, but she wouldn't stop looking at him like that.</p><p>"You know," she went on, her blouse still unbuttoned, "I could help you with that."  She came even closer to him and brushed her hand against his trousers, her smile changing to something definitely more sexual.  "I'm actually quite good at giving head.  Ask anyone."</p><p>He was nearly too shocked to respond.  "Wh...what?" he stammered, unable to believe his ears.  "Washington, is America aware of--"</p><p>She put her finger on his mouth, silencing him at once.  "It's Katrina," she informed him, "and he saw me going down on Denmark once."  The finger on his mouth moved down to his chest; to his belt; raising one eyebrow, she hooked it into the buckle, waiting for him to stop her. </p><p>The belt came off.</p><p>He had not felt like this in hundreds of years, he realized.  As she dropped gracefully to her knees before him, he felt more like a pirate than a soldier.  And when she pulled him free of his trousers, he closed his eyes, bracing himself for either the most painful humiliation of his life or the first blowjob he had gotten from a woman in almost two hundred years.</p><p>When she took him into her mouth, he nearly screamed.  It took everything in him to keep from blowing his load and ruining what could be a sensational experience.  Gods, the girl definitely knew what she was doing; had she <em>really</em> said "ask anybody"?  What did that <em>mean?</em>  Who else besides Denmark had she <em>done</em> this to?</p><p>She could sense that he was in trouble, so she slowed her rhythm to force him to calm down, then she slowly built back up to a rhythm that they both were comfortable with.  Every once in a while she would glance up at him with those enormous grey eyes; in them, an expression so alluring that it alone was nearly enough to get him off.</p><p>She stared up at him as she slowly ran her tongue up his shaft, gently swirling around the head to lick the precum from his tip.  He shuddered and let out a low, quivering moan, reaching out and cradling her head in his hands.  She repeated these delicious movements until he was nearly ready; then, she slowly took his entire length into her mouth and he gasped in pleasure at her warm, perfect tongue doing artwork on his cock as he fucked her mouth.  She closed her eyes, sighing around him; this caused him to buck his hips as the sensation rolled from the tip of his cock all the way out the top of his skull. </p><p>"So fucking perfect," he gasped, throwing his head back.  "Oh bloody hell, I want to fuck you right now."  He bucked his hips again, growling as he neared completion.  She would not let him fuck her; he already knew this and so that didn't bother him.  He opened his eyes and met hers squarely as he began to come; she took everything without a single drop missed.  He came so strongly that he could feel it in his veins. </p><p>She quickly made sure he was finished, and he released her so that she could rinse out her mouth if she wanted to.  Instead, she stood up and took his collar in her hands, kissing him deeply so that he could taste himself on her tongue.  He was surprised at how much that appealed to him, but she wasn't interested in anything else.  She stepped back and buttoned her blouse.</p><p>"Was that all right, then?" she asked, as if she were asking his opinion on supper. </p><p>He felt completely boneless.  "What, are you serious?" he demanded.  "That was absolutely the most exquisite blow I've had in..."  He paused, thinking.  "Well, my God," he murmured after a moments thought.  "You, my dear Katrina, are truly blessed with a rare gift."</p><p>She smiled.  "So you'll help me then?" she asked, and he rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Yes, Katrina," he sighed.  "Of course."  Then he noticed the tattoo on her right arm went down to nearly her elbow.</p><p>Again, he sighed.  This was going to complicate things.  "Katrina, I cannot remove the tattoos," he said.  "You'll have to find a way to keep them hidden at all times, because Oregon has no tattoos."</p><p>"Yeah, sure, whatever," she said and waved her hand dismissively.  "So you'll do it?  You'll do it now?"</p><p>Sighing loudly, England nodded.  He was beginning to feel as though he had a leak.  He had <em>never</em> sighed so much at someone before.  Not even America at his prepubescent <em>worst</em> had been so aggravating.  Washington pumped her fist into the air and bounced on the balls of her feet.  He pinched the bridge of his nose at her childish display of victory and glanced out the black windows in surprise.  "My God, it finally stopped snowing."</p><p>She snorted.  "Arthur, I'm sure it's not the first time you've heard this, but you are a total <em>whinger</em> when it comes to winter.  You'd <em>never</em> survive a winter at my house."</p><p>He looked extremely offended.  "I spent two winters on Oregon's North coast, and I was <em>fine,"</em> he insisted, but she had been there, and knew the truth.</p><p>"You complained <em>incessantly,"</em> she reminded him.  "And it <em>barely</em> snowed there."</p><p>"I would <em>not</em> call ten centimeters barely any snow," England protested, but she wasn't having his argument.  He also knew she clearly had no real inkling of just how much danger she was running into with this foolhardy plan of hers.  But like she always had, she refused to listen to him.  He gave her his instructions, and to his relief she followed them perfectly.  There was a small chance of catastrophic failure with this particular magic; she very well could have remained as she was no matter what spell he cast, but she seemed to slip into her new skin quite easily.</p><p>He stared at her as she stood before him, a nearly identical copy of Oregon, if you ignored the tattoos and the size of her eyes.  He was very glad that she didn't offer another blowjob, because he didn't think he could handle it if she did that to him whilst looking like his daughter.  She smirked and turned her head to look over at a <em>very </em>confused-looking Canada.  "What's up...uh, what's the matter, Uncle Mattie?" she asked, clearly struggling to use the proper inflections of Oregon's voice.  She looked back at England, grimacing.  "Can you do something about that?"</p><p>He could, but England decided that he would make her do at least <em>some</em> of the work.  So he simply shrugged as if to say,  <em>Well, what can you do?</em> </p><p>"What the <em>fuck</em> is going on here?  Daria?  I heard this crazy rumor that you were in some village with Papa," Canada said, irritably.  "Arthur, Alfred has nearly reached the Saar," he added, and England sagged in relief.</p><p>Canada turned back to Washington and eyed her in suspicion.  "How did <em>you</em> get here so fast?"</p><p>Then his eyes sharpened and England knew he had figured it out.  Of all America's family, he was closest to Washington, and knew her more intimately than anyone, except perhaps Denmark.</p><p>England wondered if perhaps Canada was part of "anybody".</p><p>"What are you doing?" Canada hissed.  Washington gave him a knowing look.</p><p>"I have to go," she replied, shaking her head when he started to protest.  "Look, the whole of Germany is on the lookout for a redhead.  It's the only way."</p><p>Canada swung around to glare at England.  "Arthur, change her back!  Kate, I am going to kick your <em>ass.</em>  But I can't with you looking like Oregon.  Arthur!  Change her back so I can smack her!" he exclaimed, but Washington just gave him a smug look.</p><p>"Look, Arthur, I gotta get moving, so I'll see you around.  I really appreciate this.  I'll pay you back, you know, whenever you want."  She turned to Canada, who was staring with some surprise at the discomfort on England's face; he definitely did <em>not</em> want Matthew finding out what had happened just a few hours earlier.  Canada had that kind of brain that was more tenacious than a bull terrier.  Once he was suspicious of something or someone, he didn't let up until he knew what was up.  Then Washington touched his arm and he was completely focused on her.  "Hey, you take care, Uncle Matt, and we'll catch up in Berlin, huh?"</p><p>"You're not going <em>anywhere</em> yet," England snapped.  "This is only temporary, Katrina.  First we need to find out where <em>exactly</em> Oregon is, because if you're seen, we can't very well have <em>two</em> of you running around different parts of Germany.  What <em>now?"</em> he demanded, when Washington narrowed her eyes.</p><p>"But that is <em>perfect,"</em> she insisted.  "It will both disorient them and confuse their spies.  Nobody would even <em>suspect</em> sorcery," she pointed out.  England sighed loudly for what seemed to be the seven millionth time.</p><p>"Matthew, would you <em>please</em> get her to listen to reason?" he implored, but to his dismay, Canada was gazing at her thoughtfully, clearly considering her idea.  As usual, nobody was listening to him.  Angrily he gestured at her.  "All right, fine.  Go on then, and just be careful.  Once you choose to change back there's no more magic to be had, so use discretion, as difficult for you as that may be."</p><p>She scowled at him.  "Fuck you, Arthur.  I'm plenty discretionary."  She looked at Canada and smiled briefly.  "Tell you what, Uncle Matt.  After this is all over and we've punished Germany and Prussia for being total assholes for the past hundred years, you can kick my ass at Monopoly.  Or at least <em>try</em> to."</p><p>Canada snorted.  "It's your funeral.  You're on."</p><p>She was gone then, a sparkle in the darkness.</p><p>"I can't help but fear," England began, hesitantly, "that she is a harbinger of doom."</p><p>"Whose doom?" Canada wondered, innocently, and England turned to him in dread.</p><p>"Her own."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Brandenburg/Prussia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The insanity of the past month had been a most unwelcome distraction, and the snows had finally begun to recede, though March was still a week away.  He had fought long and hard but now Prussia thought that he understood what it meant to laugh in the face of defeat.</p><p>Although Amerika and Russland were tightening the noose, he now had a valuable bargaining chip in the form of Daria Alba Kirkland-Jones, better known as the State of Oregon.</p><p>But as he advanced on her, his rifle trained on her head, he thought it was odd that she would be here without any of her siblings, especially since he knew damn well that Amerika was still caught up in Heidelberg.  <em>Oh, well,</em> he thought as he barked at her to stand up.  As she did she scanned the perimeter, seemingly searching for someone, but he already knew she was alone.  The minute he had seen her he had immediately put out feelers for Washington, but she was nowhere to be found.  Even now he could not sense her presence, though the fog that suddenly began to pour in around them made his hair stand on end.</p><p>"Move," he ordered, shoving Oregon towards the road.  Ground fog boiled over their feet, and Oregon looked over her shoulder at him.</p><p>"I don't know what you're so--" she began, but she didn't have time to complete her thought because something buzzed past her cheek, splitting the hair that dangled down to her shoulder.</p><p>One of his men dropped.  Oregon screamed, and Prussia recoiled in surprise, wheeling around to stare into the rapidly deteriorating afternoon.  Another bullet whickered past his cheek, and Oregon shouted at him.</p><p>"YOU BETTER STOP!  Get <em>down,</em> you imbecile!  Bitch, <em>down!"</em>  She grabbed him and shoved, and he hit the floor just as another round grazed his head.  Who was out there tormenting him?  Every shot seemed to be a miss by a hair, but he was losing men every time a round cracked out.</p><p>Oregon covered her head with her arms and he dared to look around, searching for the telltale red of Washington's hair, but saw nothing.  Bullets whined over his head close enough for him to feel their passage, and he wondered desperately who was out there.  Whoever it was had no trouble hitting moving targets in whiteout conditions.  If it was Washington he should be able to feel her gestalt signature, but his senses were badly off, the hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms and legs standing up so hard that it hurt.  He couldn't sense her at all.  He could feel only a cold malevolence, making him fear that perhaps the enemy from the East had finally breached the Reich capital.</p><p>The barrage finally slowed and he hauled Oregon to her feet, grimacing in distaste at the mark on her neck; France's scent was still on her.  He nearly vomited.  "Move," he said again, but she hesitated.</p><p>"Prussia," she began, looking first into the mist and then at him.  "Gilbert.  I don't want to see anyone Daddy cares about get hurt.  You've been friends since he was first independent."</p><p>"Be <em>quiet,"</em> he ordered.</p><p>She still didn't move.  "Let me go," she murmured, her eyes deadly serious.  "I don't want you to have to find out what she's capable of."</p><p>He scoffed.  "Your sister will have to find you first, and that's not going to be easy," he promised.  "But even if she does, she won't hurt me.  She's <em>mine,"</em> he insisted.</p><p>But it would seem that stubbornness ran in her family, because just like her sister she refused to listen to him.  Or shut up.  "Please," she went on, "you don't understand."</p><p>"Wrong," he announced, as they slowly began to move.  One more round whined past his left eye and he was unable to keep from flinching.  "Your sister <em>will</em> belong to me before this is finished."</p><p>She gave him a dark look.  "You won't <em>want</em> her to belong to you, Prussia.  I'm serious.  You don't <em>know!"</em></p><p>He was now officially tired of her cryptic nonsense.  "Enough," he snapped, but he was unable to bring himself to strike her.  The cold malevolence in the mist had not left them, and he could feel it in the distance, watching him.  Was it Russland?  What would <em>he</em> have to gain by taking Oregon from his custody?  Yet something told him that this presence was far more dark and dangerous than Russland could <em>ever</em> be.</p><p>The mist retreated as he and Oregon made their way to the truck that would take them to Berlin:  Potsdam was compromised because Washington knew its location.</p><p>The driver, who had been lucky to make it through the mist, stared at Oregon in amazement.</p><p>"How did you manage to stage that?" he exclaimed, turning to Prussia with an awed kind of respect.  "How did you manage to capture her?  I never saw anything like that!  She picked off at least twenty of our men!"</p><p>Grimacing, Prussia felt his skin crawl.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped finally, as they secured Oregon into the back.  "She was, foolishly, unarmed.  Whoever it was, they've made themselves scarce."</p><p>"But I <em>saw--"</em></p><p>Prussia waved him off.  "You were obviously imagining things," he said firmly.  "The fog plays tricks with our minds, and we think that we see things that aren't there."</p><p>"Prussia," Oregon called as he turned away, "let me <em>go.</em>  Please."  She shook her head once.  "Trust me, you don't <em>want</em> her to love you."</p><p>"That," Prussia snapped, "will be quite enough from you.  I do not want to hear another <em>word</em> from you unless I <em>specifically</em> ask you something."</p><p>But Oregon could not be quiet.  "You didn't see what she did to your brother!"</p><p>He paused, but shrugged it off and got into the truck. Oregon pounded on the cab.</p><p>"You're going to be sorry!  Let me go!  Prussia!  <em>Prussia!"</em>  She banged her fists on the cab.  Prussia sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  He thought maybe he was <em>already</em> sorry.  It was already getting on his last nerve, so to avoid shooting her between the eyes, just to shut her up, he unwisely began a conversation about seat belts with his adjutant.  Realising that she was being ignored, she finally gave up.</p><p>Now it was simply <em>too</em> quiet.  The drive thankfully wasn't a long one, and when they arrived, Oregon was quite taken aback by the building.</p><p>"This isn't a prison," Prussia snapped.  "Even though you won't be in a cell, you are still a prisoner of war.  Remember that."</p><p>Oregon wet her lips and quickly scanned the perimeter.  Then she opened her mouth again and he wanted to hang himself for speaking to her.  "Prussia, listen to me.  <em>Please</em>.  You can still avoid the trouble if you let me go.  I won't tell anyone where you are!  <em>Please</em>.  You're making a huge mistake if you think that you can handle Washington."</p><p>"Will you <em>shut up!" </em> Prussia snapped.  He shuddered again at France's lingering scent on her.  "You know how it works now.  You're <em>his</em> now, and you'll follow him without question even if the things he does are completely monstrous.  Once I do the same to your sister she will love me without question.  And Amerika will have no choice but to stop this madness against me."</p><p>Oregon began to breathe heavily, clearly growing agitated.  "Prussia, you don't <em>understand,"</em> she began.  "You will <em>never</em> get her to love you.  She's not like the rest of us," she insisted.  "She was different even when Daddy adopted her."  She stared at him in desperation.  "I'm trying to <em>warn</em> you," she whispered, as if she feared someone else was listening.  "Washington is <em>dangerous</em>.  What happens to you when your people suffer?  Do you notice?  Do you care?"</p><p>"Of course I notice," Prussia snapped.  "And I care what happens to them because it's my <em>duty</em> to care."</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Oregon shook her head.  "Well, <em>she</em> <em>doesn't</em> care.  She's even hurt them <em>herself</em> and not cared.  Her largest city burnt to the ground three times and she couldn't have cared less.  She starved out an entire <em>settlement</em> just to see what would happen!"</p>
</blockquote><p>Prussia scoffed, ignoring the tickle of dread in the back of his mind.  "You're making that up," he declared.  "You forget that I know <em>all about</em> Amerika <em>and</em> your siblings."</p><p>"Then you <em>know,"</em> she insisted.  "You should have left her alone."</p><p>Angrily he had her sent away, wishing for peace and quiet.  Did she <em>ever</em> stop talking? he wondered.  Probably not.  It would not surprise him to learn that Washington had probably ditched her at some point during their earlier escape just so she could get some peace and quiet. </p><p>He gazed thoughtfully out the window, noticing that the mist from earlier seemed to be lurking in the distance.  He could see it in the darkness, blotting out the stars.  Again he felt that icy malevolence, and he wondered once more if it wasn't Russia.  Yet as before, something told him that whatever was out there was worse than Russia's darkest.</p><p>The guards posted outside Oregon's room were given enough amphetamines to keep them awake for the next three months, and he made sure to remind them that she was strictly off-limits.  "If I find out that <em>any</em> of you have touched her I will shoot you <em>myself,</em> is that clear?"</p><p>And of course they had sworn because they knew that he meant it.  After locking her in, he was finally able to go to his own quarters and get some sleep.  But he hadn't counted on sleep paralysis, which had not happened to him since Germany had been a little one.  But instead of the black shadow going after his little brother, it was approaching his bed.</p><p><br/>A cold spear of terror filled his heart.  The black form stopped at his bedside, and he blinked in horrified confusion.  It was no black terror from the depths of hell.  It was Oregon.  She stood there, glaring down at him, and then brought the cold steel of a dagger to his throat.</p><p>"I ought to cut your throat right now," she hissed, and he tried desperately to awaken, but couldn't.  His throat was locked and he couldn't scream.  Oregon's voice was <em>very</em> different in this hellish nightmare.  "But it would ruin <em>everything,</em> damn you."  Her eyes narrowed, and then she bared her teeth, growling in fury; unable to move, he could not stop her as she slashed the blade across his cheek, splitting the skin.</p><p>And then she was gone and the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes and it was morning--and his pillow was soaked in blood.  Panicked, he surged out of bed and bolted for the mirror, where he saw clearly that his face was slashed.  Had Oregon somehow gotten out? he wondered.  How would she have then gotten into his locked room?</p><p>But when he entered the hall where her room was, he saw immediately that the door was still bolted, and his was the only key.  Oregon saw his face and shook her head sadly.</p><p>"I warned you," she began, but he chose to ignore her and left her to warn herself about keeping her damn <em>mouth</em> shut.  He stopped when he was nearly at the stairs and looked back, frowning.  Where the hell were the guards?</p><p>And where did all that blood come from?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Saarbrücken/America</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>America goes up against Germany at the Saar, where he hopes to recover a captive Washington.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Ludwig Beilschmidt!"</p><p>America stood on the smoking ruin of what had been a quadratrack, scanning the demolished village for any sign of Germany, or Washington.  "Show your cowardly face, dammit!"</p><p>Finally, he was walking towards him.  He had a slight limp and looked quite worse for wear, America thought.  He also looked angry and exhausted and probably wished he was anywhere else.  "What more do you want, Alfred?" he demanded.  "You've crossed the Saar.  You're here in Deutschland.  You want to strike me down, hm?  Right now?  Or do you want to chase me all the way back to Berlin?"</p><p>"I want Katrina," America snapped.  "Give me my daughter."</p><p>Germany grimaced.  "Who?"</p><p>"Washington," America bellowed.  "I know damn well you have her with you.  Bring her out to me now."</p><p>"And if I don't?" Germany asked, a strange little smile on his face.  America balled his hands into dangerous fists.</p><p>"If you don't, I will beat the shit out of you," he promised.  He spotted a terrified looking young soldier and barked at him, the boy's face going white at his command of the German language.  "Du!"</p><p>"Jawohl m...mein Herr," the boy stammered. </p><p>"Das Mädchen!  Hast du ihr gesehen?  Sie heißt Katrina Braginskaya und ich möchte, daß sie sofort zu mir gebracht wird."</p><p>The boy's eyes widened.  "N...nein, bitte, sie ist nicht hier!  Es gibt kein Mädchen!"</p><p>Enraged, America grabbed the boy by his throat.  "Was meinst du damit?" he roared, and then dropped the boy and turned on Germany as he began to chuckle.  "The fuck are you laughing?" he demanded.  "Where the hell is Katrina?"</p><p>"I don't have her, Alfred," Germany said, with that dangerous smile never leaving his face.  "And I never laid a hand in harm on her."</p><p>"You lie," America growled, taking Germany by the collar.</p><p>"No," Germany replied.  "Your crazy daughter broke my jaw at Normandy, Alfred.  I was quite unable to do anything for a few days.  She is a <em>menace. </em> Whoever told you that <em>I</em> had her is mistaken."</p><p>America shook him once.  "My boys told me you took her.  They <em>saw</em> you.  They said the one called Beilschmidt took her."</p><p>"Yes," Germany said, "that's true."</p><p>America froze.  "No," he insisted.  "Not Gilbert."</p><p>Germany shrugged.  "I'm afraid so, Alfred.  My brother has her.  Or at least,  he <em>did</em>.  He may have let her go afterwards."</p><p>
  <em>"You son of a bitch!"</em>
</p><p>"Captain," a fresh faced kid from Illinois called up to him, "We're ready to set the charges."</p><p>America let the punch fly, and the stunned expression on Germany's face as he landed on his back was priceless.  "Is that how you looked at my daughter when she punched you?" he asked.  </p><p>His jaw shattered once again, Germany could not answer him.  But America was deliberately not securing him into custody, and he only had so much time to escape before more of the Americans showed up.  Before he could slip away, America grabbed his arm.</p><p>"Take that kid with you and get the fuck out of here," he snapped.  "But first, you tell me where she is.  Because I <em>know</em> that you've been with her; I can <em>smell</em> her on you.  Goddamn you, if you--All right," he snapped, angrily.  "If you know what is good for you, you'll let her go, Ludwig.  Tell Gilbert I'm coming.  I'm  bringing all of my kids home with me,  Ludwig."</p><p>Angrily Germany tore a section of  his tactical map and circled a town.  Frowning, America saw that it was just outside Berlin itself:  Potsdam.   "She's here?  In this town?" he demanded.  He looked at the terrified youth at Germany's side.  "He took my daughter to this town?  When?"</p><p>"Seit zwei Monaten, aber sie ist nicht da!" the boy admitted, visibly quailing.  Germany looked ready to shoot the poor lad in the face.  "Bitte, please, I don't tell."</p><p>"Nein," America said, thoughtfully, "you don't.  Fine, if you won't tell me where she really is, I'll fucking find her myself.  All right, get out of here both of you!"  He shoved an armful of clothing into the boy's arms.  "If I run into you and you're still in those damn uniforms, I'm taking you both in."</p><p>"Okay," the boy stammered.  He fumbled and nearly dropped the clothes, and Germany took them from him.  "Danke.  Danke!"</p><p>Germany scowled and struck the kid on the back of the head, starting them out.  America watched them leave and sighed once the blond heads disappeared.   </p><p>If Gilbert <em>did</em> have Katrina, he thought, she was in danger.  Prussia was like her--a land personification.  It was no coincidence that the other personifications that were attracted to Washington were also.  But out of all of them, Prussia was the most vicious.  If he did the unthinkable, and tried to claimstake on Washington while holding her captive, she would put up a fight, and he could very well hurt her.  And if he hurt even <em>one precious red hair on her head,</em> America would kill him.</p><p>If she didn't kill him first.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Brandenburg/Prussia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Prussia ignores a dire warning.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The insanity of the past month had been a most unwelcome distraction, and the snows had finally begun to recede, though March was still a week away.  He had fought long and hard but now Prussia thought that he understood what it meant to laugh in the face of defeat.</p><p>Although Amerika and Russland were tightening the noose, he had a valuable bargaining chip in the form of Daria Alba Kirkland-Jones, better known as the State of Oregon.</p><p>But as he advanced on her, his rifle trained on her head, he thought it was odd that she would be here without any of her siblings, especially since he knew damn well that Amerika was still caught up in Heidelberg.  Oh, well, he thought as he barked at her to stand up.  As she did she scanned the perimeter, seemingly searching for someone, but he already knew she was alone.  The minute he had seen her he had immediately put out feelers for Washington, but she was nowhere to be found.  Even now he could not sense her presence, though the fog that suddenly began to pour in around them made his hair stand on end.</p><p>"Move," he ordered, shoving Oregon towards the road.  Ground fog boiled over their feet, and Oregon looked over her shoulder at him.</p><p>"I don't know what you're so--" she began, but she didn't have time to complete her thought because something buzzed past her cheek, splitting the hair that dangled down to her shoulder.  One of his men dropped.  Oregon screamed, and Prussia recoiled in surprise, wheeling around to stare into the rapidly deteriorating afternoon.  Another bullet whickered past his cheek, and Oregon shouted at him.</p><p>"YOU BETTER STOP!  Get down, you imbecile!  Bitch, down!"  She grabbed him and shoved, and he hit the floor just as another round grazed his head.  Who was out there tormenting him?  Every shot seemed to be a miss by a hair, but he was losing men every time a round cracked out.  Oregon covered her head with her arms and he dared to look around, searching for the telltale red of Washington's hair, but saw nothing.  Bullets whined over his head close enough for him to feel their passage, and he wondered desperately who was out there.  Whoever it was had no trouble hitting moving targets in whiteout conditions.  If it was Washington he should be able to feel her gestalt signature, but his senses were badly off, the hairs on the  back of his neck and on his arms and legs standing up so hard that it hurt.  He couldn't sense her at all.  He could feel only a cold malevolence, making him fear that perhaps the enemy from the East had finally breached the Reich capital.</p><p>The barrage finally slowed and he hauled Oregon to her feet, grimacing in distaste at the mark on her neck; France's scent was still on her.  "Move,"  he said again, but she hesitated.</p><p>"Prussia," she began, looking first into the mist and then at him.  "Gilbert.  I don't want to see anyone Daddy cares about get hurt.  You've been friends since he was first independent."</p><p>"Be quiet," he ordered.</p><p>She still didn't move.  "Let me go," she murmured, her eyes deadly serious.  "I don't want you to have to find out what she's capable of."</p><p>He scoffed.  "Your sister will have to find you first, and that's not going to be easy," he promised.</p><p>But it would seem that stubbornness ran in her family, because just like her sister she refused to listen to him.  "Please," she went on, "you don't understand."</p><p>"Wrong," he announced, as they slowly began to move.  One more round whined past his left eye and he was unable to keep from flinching.  "Your  sister will belong to me before this is finished."</p><p>She gave him a dark look.  "You won't want her to belong to you, Prussia.  I'm serious. You don't know!"</p><p>He was now officially tired of her cryptic nonsense.  "Enough," he snapped, but he was unable to bring himself to strike her.  The cold malevolence in the mist had not left them, and he could feel it in the distance, watching him.  Was it Russland?  What would he have to gain by taking Oregon from his custody?  Yet something told him that this presence was far more dark and dangerous than Russland could ever be.</p><p>The mist retreated as he and Oregon made their way to the truck that would take them to Berlin:  Potsdam was compromised because Washington knew its location.</p><p>The driver, who had been lucky to make it through the mist, stared at Oregon in amazement.  "How did you manage to stage that?" he exclaimed, turning to Prussia with an awed kind of respect.  "How did you manage to capture her? I never saw anything like that!  She picked off at least twenty of our men!"</p><p>Grimacing, Prussia felt his skin crawl.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped finally, as they secured Oregon into the back.  "She was, foolishly, unarmed.  Whoever it was, they've made themselves scarce."</p><p>"But I saw--"</p><p>Prussia waved him off.  "You were obviously imagining things," he said firmly.  "The fog plays tricks with our minds, and we think that we see things that aren't there."</p><p>"Prussia," Oregon called as he turned away, "let me <em>go</em>.  Please."  She shook her head once.  "Trust me, you don't want her to love you."</p><p>"That," Prussia snapped, "will be quite enough from you.  I do not want to hear another word from you unless I specifically ask you something."</p><p>But Oregon could not be quiet.  "You didn't see what she did to your brother!"</p><p>He paused, but shrugged it off and got into the truck.  Oregon pounded on the cab.</p><p>"You're going to be sorry!  Let me go!  Prussia!  Prussia!"  She banged her fists on the cab.  Prussia sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  It was already getting on his last nerve, so to avoid shooting her between the eyes, just to shut her up, he unwisely began a conversation about seat belts with his adjutant.  Realising that she was being ignored, she finally gave up.</p><p>Now it was simply too quiet.  The drive thankfully wasn't a long one, and when they arrived Oregon was quite taken aback by the building.</p><p>"This isn't a prison," Prussia snapped.  "Even though you won't be in a cell, you are still a prisoner of war.  Remember that."</p><p>Oregon wet her lips and quickly scanned the perimeter.  "Prussia, listen to me.  Please.  You can still avoid the trouble if you let me go.  I won't tell anyone where you are!  Please.  You're making a huge mistake if you think that you can handle Washington."</p><p>"Will you shut up!"  Prussia snapped.  He shuddered at France's lingering scent on her.  "You know how it works now.  You're his now, and you'll follow him without question even if the things he does are completely monstrous.  Once I do the same to your sister she will love me without question.  And Amerika will have no choice but to stop this madness against me."</p><p>Oregon began to breathe heavily, clearly growing agitated.  "Prussia, you don't understand," she began.  "You will never get her to love you.  She's not like the rest of us," she insisted.  "She was different even when Daddy adopted her."  She stared at him in desperation.  "I'm trying to warn you," she whispered, as if she feared someone else was listening.  "Washington is dangerous.  What happens to you when your people suffer?  Do you notice?  Do you care?"</p><p>"Of course I notice," Prussia snapped.  "And I care what happens to them because it's my duty to care."</p><p>Oregon shook her head.  "Well, she doesn't care.  She's even hurt them herself and not cared.  Her largest city burnt to the ground three times and she couldn't have cared less.  She starved out an entire settlement just to see what would happen!"</p><p>Prussia scoffed, ignoring the tickle of dread in the back of his mind.  "You're making that up," he declared. "You forget that I know all about Amerika and your siblings."</p><p>"Then you know," she insisted.  "You should have left her alone."</p><p>Angrily he had her sent away, wishing for peace and quiet.  Did she ever stop talking? he wondered.  He gazed thoughtfully out the window, noticing that the mist from earlier seemed to be lurking in the distance.  He could see it in the darkness, blotting out the stars.  Again he felt that icy malevolence, and he wondered once more if it wasn't Russia.  Yet as before, something told him that whatever was out there was worse than Russia's darkest.</p><p>The guards posted outside Oregon's room were given enough amphetamines to keep them awake for the next three months, and he made sure to remind them that she was strictly off-limits.  "If I find out that any of you have touched her I will shoot you myself, is that clear?"</p><p>And of course they had sworn because they knew that he meant it.  After locking her in, he was finally able to go to his own quarters and get some sleep.  But he hadn't counted on sleep paralysis, which had not happened to him since Germany had been a little one.  But instead of the black shadow going after his little brother, it was approaching his bed.</p><p>A cold spear of terror filled his heart.  The black form stopped at his bedside, and he blinked in horrified confusion.  It was no black terror from the depths of hell.  It was Oregon.  She stood there, glaring down at him, and then brought the cold steel of a dagger to his throat.</p><p>"I ought to cut your throat right now," she hissed, and he tried desperately to awaken, but couldn't.  His throat was locked and he couldn't scream.  Oregon's voice was very different in this hellish nightmare.  "But it would ruin everything, damn you."  Her eyes narrowed, and then she bared her teeth, growling in fury; unable to move, he could not stop her as she slashed the blade across his cheek, splitting the skin.</p><p>And then she was gone and the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes and it was morning--and his pillow was soaked in blood.  Panicked, he surged out of bed and bolted for the mirror, where he saw clearly that his face was slashed.  Had Oregon somehow gotten out? he wondered.  But when he entered the hall where her room was, he saw immediately that the door was still bolted, and his was the only key.  Oregon saw his face and shook her head sadly.</p><p>"I warned you," she began, but he chose to ignore her and left her to warn herself about keeping her damn mouth shut.  He stopped when he was nearly at the stairs and looked back, frowning.  Where the hell were the guards?</p><p>And where did all that blood come from?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Berlin/Austria</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Austria encounters the darkness.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Austria knew the end was near.  </p><p>He had sensed it for weeks, and ever since Prussia so unwisely brought Oregon back with him, he could actually hear them: the footsteps of doom.  And the trouble had started as soon as the next day after her arrival, when her guards inexplicably vanished in the middle of the night, leaving behind an unholy amount of blood.  But Oregon had neither seen nor heard anything that would indicate what exactly had happened to them, even though she was extensively questioned by Prussia.</p><p>Now his anxiety was through the roof, and he needed Seconal more than ever.  Germany had always warned him against using substances, claiming that it was impure, but as far as Austria was concerned, Germany could kiss his ass.  This entire war was Germany's fault, and now it was turning rapidly in favor of the Allies, thanks to Amerika's infinite resources, and he could see no way out.  </p><p>He lit a cigarette with shaking hands as he passed through the archway and into the empty field beside the house.  Behind him, the sun was setting, and the early spring evening still had quite a bite to it.  A brisk breeze soughed through the grass, and somewhere in the distance, he could hear howling that didn't sound like dogs.</p><p>Nervously he exhaled, but he kept his eyes on the ground, unwilling to look around at whatever might be out here.  It was an unspoken fact that there really was very little time left before either Amerika or Russland showed up on the scene, and he knew he wasn't alone in the hopes that it would be Amerika.  As the final gasps of daylight faded into dark, Austria fancied that he could hear faint footsteps in the grass, lightly crunching towards him from somewhere horrible.</p><p>And in the distance, a man screamed briefly, cut off as abruptly as a switch.  This sound seemed to blend in with the howls of the creatures and it made his hair stand on end.</p><p>The footsteps in the darkness came closer.  Quickly he nipped around the side of the house, intending to get inside via the servants entrance, but the door was locked, and he glared into the black windows in irritation.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed what looked like a figure leaning against the arcade across the yard, and he was about to call out when he realised that the footfalls were now very loud, and directly behind him.  Not daring to look, he forced himself to stare into the reflection of the window, and when the figure melted out of the darkness, his heart stopped.  The moonlight struck pale skin and her red hair looked like blood.  What ought to be grey eyes were black pits of nothing.  He  screamed and spun around in horror.</p><p>Oregon stood calmly before him, regarding him with a slightly confused expression.  His chest tightened in a delayed response and he embraced himself in agony.  When he could speak he demanded, "What are you doing out here?  You were to stay indoors.  Who let you out?"</p><p>She shrugged.  "Nobody.  I  came out here on my own.  Prussia's not around," she added.  "He's off bitching for more guards.  I dunno why.  The same thing's gonna happen to them as the other ones."</p><p>Austria narrowed his eyes in sudden suspicion.  He had been around Oregon long enough to know how she spoke, and while this sounded like her voice, he somehow knew it wasn't.  Oregon rarely used foul language, thanks to England's raising her to be a lady, and she certainly didn't say things like "gonna" or "dunno".  And what exactly did she mean by 'the same thing'? </p><p>What had happened to them?</p><p>He considered briefly before he spoke.  "Oregon?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Something was wrong.  He wasn't sure how, but she was not the same polite young lady he had spoken to this morning.  "Are you all right?" he asked, carefully.  He  glanced quickly in the window again and nearly screamed.  Once again, the girl glaring back at him looked exactly like an insane version of Washington, but when he looked back at her again she was just Oregon.  She smirked, in a very un-Oregon manner, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.</p><p>"I'm cool," she said, "but he's not."  She gestured to the figure across the yard.   "I think he dead, Austria."</p><p>Austria whipped around to stare at the dark figure and his guts gave a great, unlovely heave.  As he stepped closer to the man he could clearly see that although he was standing upright, he was indeed quite dead.  His throat was open in what he had once heard called a "Glasgow Smile", cut from ear to ear.</p><p>"It's one of the guards," Oregon exclaimed, in an oddly affected voice.  "Oh dear.  Who could have done this?  Where's the other guard?  Do you think maybe he did it?"</p><p><em>I think maybe you did it</em> is what he thought, but of course that was ridiculous.  Oregon might well be capable of killing an enemy to save her life, but she was not really in danger here.  Prussia's plan was to keep her until Amerika was near, and then use her to negotiate terms of peace.  She  was not the kind to kill out of malice, which this clearly seemed to indicate.  However, this brought him to a different problem: it meant that someone else was here, lurking undetected.</p><p>"Get indoors," he ordered, and she gave him a strange little smile.  When she didn't move he added, "Hurry up before I change my mind and notify Prussia of your insolence!"</p><p>"Ooh, insolence," Oregon exclaimed, giggling maniacally.  "What a fancy word. Your English is better than mine!  Ahahaha!  Okay, whatever.  I'm goin."  She turned and flounced away, and as she disappeared towards the front of the house he found himself staring at a spot on her lower neck that was exposed by her hairstyle.  He hadn't noticed that Oregon had tattoos before but there was clearly black ink in a Norse pattern extending from beneath her clothing.</p><p>But he didn't have time to start investigating that, because there was a dead man to attend to.  Prussia would be furious  and would probably blame him for not noticing sooner; in all fairness he ought to have done.  </p><p>He sighed.  The guard wasn't just leaning against the pillar.  He had been speared through, most likely post-mortem, and the spear tip had pierced through the man's body and into the concrete behind him.  Whoever had done this was possessed of strength beyond a mortal human, and many nations for that matter. He pulled, and could not even withdraw the spear from the body.</p><p>"Holy Jesus!"  Oregon cried from behind him.  Angrily he whirled, intending to shout at her to get the hell inside, but he faltered when he saw her face.  She was staring at the dead guard in alarm.  "What happened? Is that one of the guards from my door?"</p><p>He herded her away roughly.  "Stop playing around and get back in there like I told you," he snapped, and she looked at him oddly.  He shoved her around the corner, dimly registering that she did not have anything on the back of her neck, and suddenly he wanted to throw up.  He gritted his teeth and pushed her away from him.  "Now!"</p><p>She went inside, casting worried looks at him over her shoulder, and he felt his blood pressure rise.  Whatever kind of game she was trying to play, he would not allow her to gaslight him.  It was really too bad, he thought, because Oregon could cut a fine figure at a party, and Prussia had mentioned throwing one last hurrah before the Reds or the Amis showed up on their porch.  If Oregon thought she could cause chaos, she was sorely mistaken.  He would have to keep an eye on her, he thought.  Prussia was so busy moping around about Washington being gone that he was barely functional, and that was the honest truth.</p><p>It had to stop.</p><p>Austria shivered, and in the distance, the creatures howled and gibbered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Berlin/Sisters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Oregon and Washington finally find each other in Berlin, where Oregon is the guest of honor at the Germans last hurrah.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Party for the World's Ending had begun, and Oregon had been here over a month and a half.</p><p>Nearly two months and it was now almost May and Washington was just now making her presence known to her own sister?</p><p>What the hell was wrong with her?</p><p>"What the fuck <em>took</em> you so long?  What were you waiting for?  <em>Permission?"</em>  Oregon demanded, whirling on her sister, but then Washington removed her hood and Oregon realised that she was staring at a nearly perfect copy of herself.</p><p>"Wow," she breathed, staring at her sister in amazement.  "You look just like <em>me!</em>  How?"</p><p>Washington smiled.  "England did it," she informed her.  "I can't wait to change back, though.  No offence, but it's a struggle to be as nice as you.  I think I might a fucked up a few times, so you may need to apologise to a couple of our friends.  Sorry," she shrugged, but she didn't seem sorry at all.  "Look, you're going to have to put this on."  She handed Oregon a lace shawl.  "He made me look like you, but he couldn't remove my tattoos."</p><p>"I didn't see that one on your arm yet," Oregon frowned.  "Let me see it."</p><p>"Later.  Go," Washington urged.  "Go out there and get Prussia to notice you.  You don't have to dance or anything," she added.  "Just get his attention.  I'll take care of everything else.  Then meet me back here in exactly thirty minutes.  Can you remember that?"</p><p>"Yes," Oregon said.  "What are you going to do?"</p><p>Washington smiled her secret smile.  "I'm going to give them a farewell present.  From the two of us."  She opened the door, looked out, then turned back to her and saluted.  "Good luck," she said, and hurried away.</p><p>Oregon clenched her fists in her lap.  As much as she adored parties like this one, this particular party was the exact opposite of what she wanted to be doing at the moment.  The Germans had not treated her badly, and Prussia was actually quite an accomodating person, for the enemy.  Although she could sense a similar psychopathy to Washington's, lurking just below the surface.  It helped to know how to react to him.  There was that. </p><p>She took a few deep breaths and counted to twenty.  Then she started back towards the party, taking light, graceful and measured steps the way England had taught her so long ago.  It was nearly a reflex now, walking like that.  Sometimes it felt more natural than her regular walk.</p><p>Prussia, Austria and Germany were standing together near the back of the room, deep in discussion.  Rather, Germany and Austria were deep in discussion and Prussia was casting surreptitious looks around the room.  <em>He's looking for me,</em> Oregon thought.  She caught the eye of a young nobleman, who swept over to her with enough airs to grab Prussia's attention, and when he saw her, he looked relieved.  But now he was watching her, and those red eyes of his were <em>very</em> unnerving.  She found that she could barely concentrate on having a conversation with him staring at her like that, and she finally had to excuse herself.  Had it been a half hour yet?</p><p>No.</p><p>"Fräulein Jones, I hope you are enjoying yourself," Prussia's voice spoke suddenly in her ear, and she looked around in startled dismay.  He was practically breathing down the back of her neck.  Ever the lady, she managed to force a smile on her face, even though she felt like crying.  And ever the people pleaser, Oregon couldn't help but notice that Prussia also looked restless, as if he wished that he was anywhere in the world other than this ballroom. </p><p>"I am having a wonderful time," came her automatic response.  He gave her an odd look, and she cursed to herself and remembered that Prussia was one of America's oldest friends, and he would know quite a bit about her and all her siblings, so he likely knew that what she'd just told him was a complete and utter load of shit.  Sure enough, he clasped his hands behind his back and smiled grimly.</p><p>"Oh, now really, Oregon, there's no need for that," he announced.  "I know you are <em>clearly</em> not enjoying yourself.  It would be ridiculous for <em>anyone</em> to expect you to say otherwise.  So tell me then," he added,  "what can we provide you with to make your stay with us more enjoyable, or at least bearable?"</p><p>She stared at him in surprise. </p><p>"Within reason, of course," he added.   </p><p>Oregon tried to pull herself together, but she realised that she was going to cry.  Blinking the hateful tears away, she said bitterly, "I don't suppose you have any cyanide capsules?"</p><p>He raised one dangerous eyebrow.  Oregon didn't think she had ever met anyone so striking in appearance before.  She could definitely see how anyone--man or woman--would be easily controlled by him just on the merits of his beauty alone.  "Now <em>why</em> would I allow you to have something like that, Fräulein Jones?  You might hurt yourself, or someone else.  Would you <em>really</em> want to waste my time asking me about that or is there something else?"</p><p>Oregon frowned.  He seemed to be having trouble concentrating on her, which was unusual.  She knew that she was beautiful and that Prussia was interested in negotiations with America using her and Washington as pawns.  When France had told her this, his face had been pale with rage. </p><p>"As if he has not already done enough to your sister to serve his own twisted desire," he had said, his voice low and angry.  "Ma belle, he will not be using either of you.  This ends now!"</p><p>But it had not ended and here she was.  Prussia gazed towards the sweeping staircase with a look of longing on his face.  She suddenly realised what it was that was bothering him, and let out a smothered sob.</p><p>"I want my sister," she declared, drawing herself up gracefully.  His face pinched with unease.  He wanted her too, Oregon saw.  "Your brother let her go and it's been miserable here ever since.  You miss her, too," she added, taking a risk, "don't you?"</p><p>His eyes narrowed.  "Yes," he hissed.  He saw how streaked her makeup had become.  "Go fix your face, Fräulein Jones.  We can't have you out here with a face full of misery, can we?  People will <em>never</em> believe that you are here willingly if you keep this up."</p><p>Oregon tried to hurry from the ballroom without looking like she was hurrying.  She had timed it nearly perfectly, and just as she ducked into the lavatory, Washington was there with a change of clothes.  As much as Oregon loved formal clothing (and Prussia had impeccable tastes) she couldn't wait to get out of this dress.  Washington watched as she unwound the silk scarf from her neck.</p><p>"Nice, Daria," she said, looking at France's claimstake in appreciation.  "Whose teeth are those?  Francy-Pants, I'll bet.  He was going hard for you," she shrugged, at Oregon's indignant look.  "I can't think of anyone else who would be suitable for you.  Have you had a chance to tell Pop?"</p><p>Oregon shook her head.  "And don't tell him yet, huh?  I'll do it myself when the time is right."  She pulled on the pants and looked at herself in the mirror.  "Now what?"</p><p>"You're going to go down to the cellar and set the timers," Washington instructed.  "And they're already calibrated, so all you need to do is flip a switch.  You'll have plenty of time to get out of there," she added.  "There's a passage directly out from the cellar.  You'll have to go through a tunnel a few miles and you'll come up where my Papa is positioned.  He'll keep you safe until Pop gets here."</p><p>Oregon took a deep breath.  "Wait," she began.  "Russia's here?"</p><p>"Almost," Washington nodded.  "He'll be here in about two days.  So be ready."</p><p>Pressing her lips together, Oregon forced herself to calm down.  Washington knew what she was doing.  "Okay," she said.  </p><p>Washington frowned, seeing the streaks of tears drying on Oregon's cheeks.  "That <em>fucking</em> shitlord, what did he say to you?"</p><p>"Nothing, Katie," Oregon said quickly.  "It's not like that.  Actually, he misses you."</p><p>Her eyes widened, and Oregon saw with some surprise that her sister's cheeks flushed, and she nearly smiled.  But then she squared her shoulders. </p><p>"Well, whatever," she said, angrily.  "Who <em>cares</em> what he thinks?  All right, Daria.  You better get going, because he's heading this way."  </p><p>Oregon darted out the door, then looked back, alarmed.  "Wait!  But what about you?  You're coming with me, aren't you?"</p><p>"Go," Washington urged, and Oregon felt her eyes smart with tears.  She fled down the back staircase, cursing Prussia and Germany and even Washington herself.  What was she planning?  </p><p>The back stairs went down further than she had anticipated.  Dimly she heard Prussia hammering on the door, and Washington answering him in her no-fucks-to-give voice.  Oregon almost felt sorry for him.  The sounds faded out as she descended into the depths of the building.  It looked like a medieval dungeon down here, or maybe a crypt.  She easily found the bundles of explosives and for a few minutes she could only gaze at the web of fuses in awe.  There was enough to destroy a small village here, she knew.</p><p>Washington meant to do serious, potentially lethal damage.</p><p>Shrugging off any guilt that might try to encroach--because they had earned it, and had not heeded her warnings--Oregon set about flipping the rows of toggle switches, humming the National Anthem to herself.  As she went down the line she noticed that the route to freedom was right in front of her.  To go back would take too long and would draw attention to herself.  She had no choice but to leave Washington in the company of wolves....</p><p>She stopped, considering.  No, that was not altogether correct.  She had <em>tried</em> to warn them.  Had tried for months to get Prussia, especially, to see the error of his thinking.  Now it was too late.</p><p>She was leaving them with the direwolf.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Berlin/ Prussia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prussia seethed as he stormed down the corridor to the salon, where America's young brat, Oregon, had been hiding for the entire damn evening.  He was tired of chasing her around, he thought.   America might well be on his way to Berlin, but he wasn't here yet, and with Canada busy in the Netherlands, there would be no rescue for the little chick.  <br/><br/>He almost felt sorry for her.<br/><br/><em>Almost</em>.<br/><br/><em>Oregon ought to be grateful,</em> he thought smugly.  Although he found Washington to be far more beautiful than she, Oregon was at least physically superior to that awful whinger Kalifornien, and with her blonde hair and blue eyes she was damn near perfect.  Now if he could just bring himself to want her.  He had been spoiled by Washington and now only wanted her.  But Washington wasn't here, so he needed to come up with a solution to his ache for her.  He wasn't at all attracted to Oregon, and France's claimstake was recent enough to still smell him on her, which was nauseating to him; whereas Prussia himself would be the <em>only</em> one on Washington's skin.<br/><br/>She'd locked the door.<br/><br/>"Open this door now or I will kick it down, Fräulein Jones," he called sweetly, his voice conveying all the menacing that he could muster.<br/><br/>"No," came the reply.  He pounded on the door and bared his teeth.<br/><br/><em>"Get out here!</em>  You are to make a good impression and I will make sure that you do if it <em>kills</em> me!" he hissed.<br/><br/>He heard her dress rustling.  When she spoke next her voice was right on the other side of the door, though he had not heard her footsteps.  "Then your little brother better start planning your funeral," she retorted, but she yanked the door open, nearly tearing it off the hinges.  He gasped as the door jamb cracked.<br/><br/>She sneered at him and for a moment he recoiled, then looked beyond her into the bathroom,  wondering what had gotten into her.  Although she had been in tears not a half hour ago, she didn't look as though she had been crying at all.<br/><br/>"All right, you little whore," he hissed at her.  She sniffed and rolled her eyes, but she had no choice but to go along with him.  "Let's go."  He held out his arm, and for a moment she hesitated, then raised her enormous eyes to his and gave him a strange little smile.  Almost against his will he found himself smiling back at her.<br/><br/>She slid her arm through his.<br/><br/>It was as if a massive electrical current surged through him from his brain down to his feet.  For a moment he was galvanized in place, a wave of nausea threatening to overcome him.  But Oregon acted as though she didn't even notice.  He forced himself to move, even as his intuition tried to warn him that something was wrong.  She had been fighting against him all night, but now, she had an iron grip on his arm.<br/><br/>Her grasp was wrong.<br/><br/>Prussia kept walking with her, through the doors and back into the hall, all the while frantically trying to figure out why her hold on his arm felt so strange. Her grasp was wrong and so was her scent.  He couldn't detect France on her at all, but for some reason he thought he could smell...<em>his brother?</em>  How could <em>that</em> be right?  He didn't have time to figure it out, however, because almost as soon as they returned to the party, she pulled away and began to mingle.<br/><br/>He watched her in fascination, wondering what on earth had gone on in that lavatory.  Before, she had huddled at the side of the room practically shaking in her shoes.  Now however, she was working the room, raising eyebrows with her perfectly accented German.  Slowly but surely she was making her way over to where his Bruder stood with Austria.  Austria looked at her with suspicion, but Germany practically melted when she spoke to him, reaching out and touching his arm with the refined grace of the lady England had intended her to be.<br/><br/>As the two of them began to dance, Austria hurried over to him.  Prussia thought he looked extremely worried.  "Gilbert," he began, "I think we may have a problem."<br/><br/>"Leave the problems for tomorrow, Roderich," Prussia declared, toasting him and the gracefully dancing Oregon and Germany.  They were gazing intently into each other's eyes as they moved as one across the room.  Prussia thought his brother looked dazed. And there was an obvious erection in his trousers. Who could blame him?  The young woman was beautiful.  Everyone had said so.<br/><br/>"Gilbert, listen to me," Austria insisted.  "There won't <em> be </em> a tomorrow if you continue to ignore the glaringly obvious truth about that girl."<br/><br/>Prussia turned and thanked his aide for bringing him another drink, without having to be asked.  The boy was finally getting useful, he thought.  "What are you on about?  Look at her.  Oregon is <em>perfect</em>.  Amerika will do anything to make sure she is kept safe."<br/><br/>"Gilbert!"  Austria hissed.  "That is <em> not </em> Oregon!"<br/><br/>Germany and Oregon swept across the floor in time with the waltz, which Prussia suddenly remembered Amerika somewhat shamefacedly telling him that none of his children could dance.<br/><br/>"It must be me.  I mean, the only one who can do it isn't even mine, really.   Not yet.  Did I tell you Finland and Russia finally agreed?"<br/><br/>"Are you listening to me?" Austria pressed.<br/><br/>The shawl slipped off her right shoulder, and Prussia's heart jacked painfully in his chest.<br/><br/>On Oregon's right shoulder and arm was an elaborate and intricate tattoo of a vertical Dannebrog (he knew it was the Danish flag because below it were the Danish words <em>Mit hjerte, dit land)</em>.<br/><br/>He had seen that tattoo just recently.<br/><br/><em>"Nein,"</em> Prussia breathed, trying to shove through the crowd.  "Ludwig!  <em>Bruder! </em> Don't--!"  He turned back to Austria.  "Find her!  I don't know what's going on, but I'm not letting <em>either</em> of them get away with it."  As he forced his way across the room, Oregon turned her head and smiled at him, one of her eyes (which were much larger than the real Oregon's, he realised with dread) changing color as he stared into her face.<br/><br/>Grey, like the mist she had so effortlessly shot in.  <br/><br/><em>Washington</em>.<br/><br/>Before he could expose her, she turned to Germany, the very picture of refinery and grace.  Thanking him for a lovely dance, she waited while he went back towards the officer's tables and then seized his arm again.  <br/><br/>"Let's go, Gilbert," she said through a ghastly smile. <em> "Now."</em></p><p>“I know who you <em>really</em> are," he hissed, as he tried to regain control of her.  His movement only made her hold his arm even more relentlessly.  A deep ache spread into his very bones.<br/><br/>"So you do," she sniffed, not looking at all concerned.  "Keep going.  Up the staircase.  Come on, now," she chided, "don't make <em> me </em> do everything.  What will people <em>think?</em>  They'll think you couldn't get it up."<br/><br/><em>"What are you doing?"</em> he hissed in her ear, as he roughly kissed her neck.  Doing so caused an immediate and intense erection.  Although the idea of possessing her had consumed him for months now, he was suddenly terrified.  Why had she come back <em>now?</em>  Was it because he had damaged her so much that she wanted him to finish her off?  Or was it something else?<br/><br/>Had she come back to him because she couldn't stay away?<br/><br/>There was none of that calming sense of nirvana that he had gotten when Oregon had allowed him to dance with her.  When he touched Washington, even if only for a second, it felt like being struck by lightning.  And his body reacted to it with intent.<br/><br/>"I'm taking one for the team, you everloving bastard," she said, her breath hotter than hell on his ear.  "And you'd better fucking like it, because I'm <em>not</em> going to do it again."<br/><br/>He thought about telling her that there would be no need for her to take one for any team ever again, because after tonight she would want him constantly.  She would figure that out soon enough, he decided.</p><p>This time was <em>nothing</em> like when he had taken her into the trees.  That time, she had fought him so strenuously that he had had to hit her upside the head to make her lie still.  It wasn't anything like any of the other times, either.  She wasn't lying still, but she also wasn't fighting him.<br/><br/>"I hate you," she breathed in his ear as he lifted her onto his cock.  "You will be sorry you <em> ever </em> touched me."<br/><br/>He didn't care.  As he thrust up into her she finally opened herself to him with a long, sensual moan, and that curious prosaic humming filled his entire body. Unlike before, now he could concentrate on it because she was finally giving herself.  He pushed her up against the wall, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding herself up.  Staring into her eyes, he began to fuck her in earnest as she said his name over and over.  Her hips rolled against his and his brain was filled with brilliant flashes of lightning and the roar of the sea, the rumble of the very earth.<br/><br/>"You'll never have me," she swore even as she gripped him tighter.  She kissed him deeply, sucking on his tongue.  “I will <em> never </em> love you.”</p><p>"You will," he promised, and returned her kiss.  She held his face gently and desperately rolled her tongue against his, breathing his breaths.  He could taste the fresh sweet rain on her tongue, and smell the green forest on her skin.  He broke for air and stared into those intense grey eyes.  "You <em>will</em> love me, and we will be stronger together than anyone <em>ever</em> imagined."<br/><br/>Twisting her long braid around his hand, he pulled her head back just enough to expose her throat, but he waited.  He wanted her to understand <em>exactly</em> what was happening to her.  The tattoo marks on her skin might be Danish, but what he would put inside of her would make her his forever.  She would love him eventually and Amerika would have no choice but to accept it.  And Denmark would be forced to watch as she bore him enough offspring to strengthen the Reich to the point of invincibility.  <br/><br/>Her breathing deepened and she began to come with great, moaning gasps.  He felt her tightening around his cock and knew it was almost time to claim her. She closed her eyes and when she cried his name, <em> his </em> name, not Denmark's or anyone else's, his heart gave a soaring, joyful leap in his chest.  She was perfect and she was <em> his</em>.  It was his only coherent thought as he slammed forward, the flashes of lightning in his brain replaced with a searing, blinding blast of light.  <br/><br/>He sank his teeth into her neck, biting down to the gums as he came deep inside her.<br/><br/>She screamed.  <br/><br/>Now, <em> now </em> she understood.<br/><br/>Panting, they clung to each other.  She was shaking so hard that she would not be able to stand on her own, and he was able to carry her effortlessly across the room to the perfectly-made bed that hadn't been used in this manner since Louis XIV had slept here. Now she was completely compliant; even the look in her eyes was different.  Now she gazed up into his eyes with pure adoration.  He had won.  She had given herself to him willingly and she was his now.  If he could get her to betray Denmark then he could <em>certainly</em> get her to betray America, he thought.</p><p>"Ssh," she whispered, bringing a finger to his lips. There was an amazing tenderness in her touch and it made him love her even more.  "Your thoughts are too loud.  You're practically screaming."<br/><br/>He felt himself smile, and she continued with the surprisingly affectionate touching.  Her fingers mapped his body, his face.  "You can hear what I am thinking?"<br/><br/>She hummed softly.  "Ever since Roumare."<br/><br/>"That," he declared as he rolled her onto her back, "is awesome."<br/><br/>Those enormous grey eyes stared into his as she parted her thighs for him.  She was so warm and wet that he nearly came right then and there.  This was for <em>him</em>, he thought in triumph as he slid into her again.  She wanted him so badly that she was <em>gushing</em> for his cock.  He brought his mouth to her breasts, kissing and suckling her, inhaling the scent he had thought that he had detected on her when he had mistaken her for Oregon.  Yes, it was <em>definitely</em> Germany.  "Did you fuck my <em>brother</em>, Katrina?" he whispered between sucks.<br/><br/>"Yes," she moaned, unable to lie to him.<br/><br/>"Did you <em>enjoy</em> it?" he murmured, gently licking her erect nipple, and she trembled against him as he took the nipple into his mouth, suckling like a babe.<br/><br/>"Oh yes," she whispered, again.  “It felt <em>so</em> <em>good</em>.”<br/><br/>"As good as this?"  With a vicious thrust he began to fuck her so roughly that she couldn't catch her breath.  "You're <em>mine</em> now," he growled, staring into her eyes, "and you will <em>not</em> lie with him again.  Do you understand?"  He paused in his thrusts, making sure to hear her beg for more before continuing.<br/><br/>Her eyes fluttered beautifully.  "Don't stop, Gilbert. <em>Please</em>.  I want only <em>you."</em><br/><br/>"I saw the way you looked at each other during your dance," he went on, enjoying himself.  “You want him.  If I hadn't been there to stop you, you would have come up here with <em>him</em>.”</p><p>"I couldn't help it, Gilbert," she said,  much to his surprise.  "He fucked me <em> so good.</em>  In a different way than you."<br/><br/>He stared at her, and suddenly she flipped him over with surprise strength and began to ride him, and he was completely unable to continue with his lecture. He wasn't really angry with either of them; actually, he found it all very arousing.  He'd have watched them fuck without a single complaint.<br/><br/>"Don't be angry, Gilbert," she murmured, gazing at him out of her eyelashes.  "It's just that I <em> needed </em> to be fucked, and you weren't there."  </p><p>He decided that he had never heard anything that turned him on as much as those words did.  She increased her rhythm and he felt himself reaching his brink.  Slowly he adjusted their position until they were sitting up, legs entwined and hips grinding together perfectly.  If either of them had been aware that the Ancients were recording this for posterity, and for America to see and understand what happened to his daughter during her captivity, they might have been a little more discrete, but neither of them knew.  She threw back her head and cried out his name as they both came; he gasped as he filled her with his seed, seeming to have an endless supply.  She moaned softly and trembled in his arms as they sank into the softness of his bed together. They kissed deeply, holding each other tightly.  She blinked up at him and smiled dreamily.<br/><br/>"Don't you want to know what I am thinking?"<br/><br/>His brow furrowed.  Try as he might, the only thing he seemed to pick up from her was static.<br/><br/>"You've never done this before," she said.  "You have to reach <em> in</em>.  Feel me."  <br/><br/>"Oh, I will," he growled as he pushed up into her perfect, tight cunt again.  He knew already that he would be able to fuck her all night and most of tomorrow due to his claimstake.  It was to ensure that she would carry, though he was certain that he'd impregnated her on his first go.  He could already sense a change.</p><p><br/>"Fuck me," she whispered, and he instantly complied. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would get what he wanted so easily.  He was in such bliss that he failed to notice the small golden glow in the window.  As they continued to make love, she whispered,  "Aren't you curious about what<em> I</em> am thinking?"  Never once taking her eyes from his.  And he <em>did</em> begin to hear her thoughts.  Despite being deep in the throes of fucking her, terror began to encroach into the firing center of his brain, but he couldn't stop.  <em>Wouldn't</em> stop.  He could suddenly see everything: past, present and future.  Saw her as a little one, glaring at him from selfish Denmark's arms; saw her at sea punching Japan in the face, knocking him senseless; saw her standing before a sea of people in a ruined city, with the skies weeping bloody tears.  None of it mattered.  She was making him feel so <em> good</em> and he would return the favor.  She would be his wife and their line would control all of Europe and, one day, even the United States.<br/><br/>"Feel me," she hissed, her hands nearly crushing him even as they gently caressed his back.  "Feel me, Gilbert Beilschmidt."<br/><br/>He pulled her up against the headboard and she kissed him, her tongue molten inside his mouth.  She shivered and he sighed deeply, wrapping his arms around her.<br/><br/>"Cut me," she pleaded, staring into his eyes.  "Cut me, Gilbert.  <em>Now</em>.  <em>Cut me.  Fuck me."</em>  <br/><br/>Breathlessly, he nodded, reaching into the nightstand for the dagger he always kept nearby.  But instead of the frenzied slashing she was used to, he did it slowly, almost reverently.  As the blood welled against her pale skin, she gasped and clutched him to her.<br/><br/>"Fuck me, Gilbert," she pleaded.  "God, fuck me harder.  <em>Harder! </em>  Please," she moaned.  "Oh, yes.  <em>Yes</em>. Drink my blood."<br/><br/>He brought his lips to her neck and she cried out, arching against him.  Her warm blood flowed into his mouth, and it tasted like life.  As he drank of her he increased the power and speed of his thrusts, and she let out a long, deep moan and held him fast.  He wanted nothing more than for this to never end, but something was <em>very</em> wrong.  Yet he couldn't bring himself to stop for even a <em>moment</em>.  She held him tightly against her, grinding her hips into his.  He was on the verge of exploding inside of her now.  God damn, she was so fucking <em>perfect</em>, and it was almost <em>unbelievable</em>.   <br/><br/>She ran her tongue gently over his lower lip.  He moaned, trembling on the edge.  "Gilbert," she began in her low, husky voice.  “I--”<br/><br/>He cut her off, rolling onto his back so that she was once again riding him.  The change of position distracted her only for a moment, and she smiled down at him, looking from beneath her long eyelashes.<br/><br/>"Gilbert, I <em>love</em> you," she whispered, and that was when he <em>knew</em>. </p><p>Because she had <em>warned</em> him; they had <em>all</em> warned him over the years and he had not listened.</p><p>He would regret trying to get her to love him.</p><p>She would kill them all.<br/><br/>Desperately he tried to free himself, to escape her and warn his brother, but he couldn't do anything but continue.  His eyes closed and rolled back into his head as he came with a scream, and she wrapped herself around him, pulling him up with her.  Sobbing deliriously he buried his head in her neck, his seed releasing into her with great, powerful blasts and wanting nothing more than to turn back time to June and shoot her in the head instead of raping her.  But it was too late.<br/><br/>"I <em> love </em> you," she moaned into his mouth, kissing him deeply.  He was helpless to do anything but kiss her back.  She tasted so fucking amazing and she would only taste better as time went on, especially if she was carrying, which he already knew that she was. He had intended to impregnate her with multiples, hopefully triplets.  She would bear his sons and they would dominate the world.</p><p>Her luminous grey eyes caressed his.  <br/><br/>"Gilbert, I love you <em> so </em> much, and our enemies are going to <em> pay." </em><br/><br/>The world exploded.  </p><p>Curiously, at first, he felt no pain at all.  He seemed to be floating, serenely observing the blossoming of brilliant orange flowers in the dark.  But then concussion struck him a split second later as his body slammed into the salted earth.  He stiffened as he tried to roll over, away from the searing heat, but he was gripped by someone with terrifying strength.</p><p>Washington's face swam into horrible focus.</p><p>"Look at it!  <em>Look</em> at it!  Damn you, I want you to <em>look at it,"</em> she shouted, forcing his head to turn.  The entire fortress was a gutted and flaming ruin.  He didn't hear himself screaming, but he must have done, because she set on him with her fists, pummeling him into oblivion.</p><p>"You made this happen," she shouted.  "This is <em>your</em> fault!  You did this to your own people and I <em>hate</em> you!"  She hauled him up, violently shaking him.  "Look at it, you coward.  This is only the beginning!  They're coming," she hissed.  "You have less than twelve hours to get out of here."  She released him, and got to her feet, towering above him in her ruined gown, deep gashes already beginning to heal.  Shakily he got to his feet and turned to flee from her, but her hand shot out and gripped his arm, nearly crushing the bone.</p><p>"I hate you," she hissed one final time.  Her fist slammed into the side of his head and then she was gone, like a dark eddy in the ocean.  And now he was alone in the blazing inferno and not even the dying cries of his people could reach him.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. USS Indianapolis/Washington</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Washington remembers her ship and crewmates upon learning of the disaster at sea.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"...And then I says to im, Roddy, ya just ain't cutting it!  Then we--"<br/><br/>"...Man, my girl hasn't written back once.  What should I--"<br/><br/>"...Ya ever seen one of them Samsquanches?  You know, out there--"<br/><br/>"...Huh.  <em>That</em> guy..."<br/><br/>"...Well whaddaya think was gonna happen?  That bird had her foot out the door."<br/><br/>"...Samsquanch?  Like the bear?"<br/><br/>Washington sat at mess across from her two main pals, Rasmussen and Koefoed.  It was 0530 and they were charging across the Pacific towards Tarawa.  Each of the three had a steaming cup in front of them.  The chatter around them was inconsequential.  <br/><br/>The two of them were grinning at her over their cups.<br/><br/>"Well, c'mon, Braginskaya," Rasmussen said, "have a drink.  It'll wake you up.  Grumpy kitty."<br/><br/>She glared into her cup, suspicious of the dark liquid.  The boxes in the kitchen supply went nearly to the ceiling.  Coffee had been short in the supply room back in Hawai'i, so where the <em>hell</em> would they suddenly come up with so much of it?<br/><br/>Everyone around them was drinking it, and seemed fine, but something <em>just</em> didn't seem right.<br/><br/>"...Ha!  And <em> then </em> the jackass has the balls to say to me--"<br/><br/>"...What do you mean she had one foot out the door? I oughta--"<br/><br/>"...No, man, the Samsquanch lives in these caves by this haunted mountain.  Ask Braginskaya.  Yo!  Braginskaya!"<br/><br/>"Ope, watch out, Miller.  Don't talk to her yet," Rasmussen said.  "She hasn't had her coffee this morning."<br/><br/>Washington froze with the cup still at her lips.<br/><br/>This was <em> not </em> coffee.<br/><br/>She didn't know <em> what </em> it was, but it was <em> not </em> coffee.<br/><br/>There was a crash as her cup flew across the mess hall.   It left a small dent in the wall.  "What the fuck is this shit?" she shouted, spitting it out violently.  <em> "Bilge?  What the fuck?" </em>  Her voice rose to a piercing shriek and she slammed her hands onto the table.  A long crack nearly split it.   "<em>WHO?</em>  Who is responsible for this liquid blasphemy?”</p><p>The Rear Admiral, alerted by the noise, came out to get his problem child under control.   “Braginskaya, at attention,” he barked, but she turned on him. </p><p>“You,” she accused.  “It was <em> you!  </em> Forcing us to choke down this filth while you and your lackeys hoard the real thing in your secret vault.  I fucking knew it!  Go and see,” she declared, looking around at everyone.   “I <em>knew</em> I smelled coffee.”</p><p>A gang of sailors crashed into the back gangway and their triumphant yell told everyone else that Washington had been right.</p><p>“Braginskaya!  Attention!”  The rear Admiral's face was red.<br/><br/>"Coffee first, then attention," she snapped.  "These men are tired."<br/><br/>Furious, he ordered her to the brig, and she very nearly ripped the table out of the floor.  But if she didn't obey, they would tell America, and he might try to send her back to Alaska.  She stormed down below, where she would stay until they arrived at the islands.  Rasmussen came down to see her, with a real cup of coffee for both of them.<br/><br/>"Ya gotta stop getting in trouble with the old man, pige," he remarked.  "He's gonna put you on permanent latrine duty if you don't knock it off."<br/><br/>"At least they'd be clean," she fired back.  "Oh, to hell with him.  This is my last sail with you fellas anyways.  I'm heading to England next month, or as soon as we kill these assholes out here."<br/><br/>Rasmussen came to see her every day that she was in the brig, but Koefoed had been in the group that had raided the coffee stash, so he was also being punished and was forbidden to see her.  Rasmussen made sure to bring coffee every time.  They played cards and told obscene jokes that would make a pirate blush.  She had learned many of them by eavesdropping on Denmark and Norway as a little one.  Rasmussen was born in Seattle, but his family was Danish, and he spoke it well.  He told her about his girl back home, a redhead like her, he said; she told him, in as human terms as possible, about her 'fellow', a Dane like him.  He looked almost absurdly pleased.<br/><br/>"Say, after this mess is all finished, maybe we'll all go out to the Bagdad Cafe, huh?" he suggested.  She smiled.</p><p>“Yeah, sure.  I think you and Mathias will like each other.”<br/><br/>Rasmussen.  He had been on the ship when it was torpedoed, and she didn't know if he'd made it.  From the horrors she was learning, she sincerely hoped he had died instantly. <br/><br/>Her head spun, and she braced herself against the wall, panting.  She was burning up.  Everything felt prickly and the dimmest light stabbed her eyes.  She slid down the wall to the floor, embracing herself in agony.  As she sat there, the corridor became flooded with the darkly sweet scent of black licorice. It was getting stronger each time, and soon she would not be able to hide it.<br/><br/>She waited until it faded, but already it wasn't going away completely anymore.  Slowly she stood up, loathing the strange fullness she could now feel.  She didn't know how a human woman could put up with this for ten months, but she was willing to bet that a human pregnancy had nothing on this.  It had only been eight damned weeks and her pants <em>already</em> didn't fucking fit.  She had had to have them altered and everything and now she needed to do it again, damn it.  She still didn't look any different with clothes on, but if anyone saw her naked, they would see she had <em>definitely</em> gotten thicker in the middle.<br/><br/>"Fuck you, Prussia," she hissed as she stormed out of headquarters and out into the ruins of Berlin.  She was going to be late for her appointment with fucking bitch-ass Germany now because of this bullshit.  Alfred had told her to be there when they brought him in from the hospital.  The sooner she could get it over with, the better.</p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Spandau/Germany</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Germany's heart must be replaced.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He kept his eyes firmly on the retreating form of his brother.  Remembered what they had always sworn to each other:  Just look at me, Bruder.  I am you, and you are me.<br/><br/>But now Germany knew better.<br/><br/>Now Germany could tell Prussia the <em> truth: </em>   He was nothing without his brother.<br/><br/>"C'mon," America said, gently taking his mangled arm.  Germany closed his eyes and tried not to vomit as the pain sang through him.  "I'm sorry, Ludwig," America whispered.  "I didn't know.  I didn't know she would do this to you."</p><p><em>How could you not know?</em>  Germany wanted to scream at him.  <em>She's insane; surely you knew that!  You even joked about it!</em> <em><br/></em><br/>"Why hasn't it begun to heal?"  Oregon demanded.  "I saw his brother get shot in the head and stand right back up.  I <em>saw</em> it.  But maybe it's because when that happened you still hadn't quit, even though you'd already lost," she added, sounding more like Washington than her usual kind self.  But Germany was willing to bet that her experiences this past year had killed that kindness.  "What's it feel like to have absolutely nothing?  I bet it's awful."<br/><br/>"Would you stop being so mean, young lady?" America snapped.  Germany wished desperately for a noose so he could hang himself.  His body felt as though it were on fire, filling up with poison.  He wished he could tell them:  Washington had hurt him out of pure malice.  Because of what he had done to Denmark.  It had nothing at all to do with the human costs.  She couldn't care less about the countless lives lost.  Just as with the first war, she had taken care to nourish the <em>one</em> thing that she could use against him and she had destroyed him.  Oh, not single handedly.  Of <em>course</em> not.  She used everyone around her to get it done.<br/><br/>Used them.<br/><br/>Prussia had told him.  America had allowed his Bruder to visit him in hospital after the desperate search for any survivors had concluded with failure.  It was only him and Austria.  And Prussia had survived because Washington had made sure he would.  She had forced him to watch as the fortress burned to the ground.  And had laughed when he screamed.<br/><br/>That was Prussia's punishment for intending to subjugate her sister.  His punishment for making her act to save her sister. <br/><br/>"Herr Deutschland."<br/><br/>No.  God, please <em>no.</em><br/><br/>"Look at me," Washington commanded him, her voice like iron.  He turned slowly, unsure what he expected to see.  A towering brute clad in chain mail?  But she was actually quite small, he realised.  She barely looked old enough to be on her own.<br/><br/>"I hate you," she said, quietly.  "You made all this happen knowing how it would end."<br/><br/>His arm ached.  "You got what you wanted, you ruiner," he replied.<br/><br/>"Yes.  I got what I wanted.  But I <em>always</em> do, Herr Deutschland.  Why don't you <em>understand</em> that yet?  I will <em> always </em> get what I want because I will do <em> anything </em> to get it, even if it costs lives.  Humans are <em> worthless </em> to me.  But not to you."  She paused.  "Eventually I learned to pretend by watching Oregon.  How to make them think you care.  I wouldn't know the first thing about it, really.  But <em> you </em> do."<br/><br/>He put his head on his knees.  "Please go away, Washington.  Let me speak to Amerika."</p><p><br/>"Herr Deutschland, I'm here to help you, as much as I would rather not," she informed him.  "Despite everything you did to Denmark, and despite everything your hateful Bruder took from me, I'm the only one who can help you now."<br/><br/>Enraged that she would blame Prussia for her murderous acts, he lashed out.  "He took <em> nothing </em> from you!"<br/><br/>"Oh, but he most certainly <em> did </em> take something from me, Herr Deutschland, and it is an insult to my intelligence to claim otherwise," Washington said, her voice low and cold.  "He took the <em> one thing </em> that I cared about.  Do you have any idea what that <em> did </em> to me?  But I had to let him take from me.  It was either me or my sister, and he would have killed her."<br/><br/>He stared at her in dawning horror.<br/><br/>"Your heart is rotten, Herr Deutschland," Washington went on.  "Your people have been poisonous to you.  It may be over, but unless we tear out the heart the poison will still hurt you.  Not that I care about that," she added, "but I promised my sister that I would make up for killing those <em> innocent </em> civilians.  Those bastards weren't innocent," she hissed, coming closer.  "No one is.  Humans are <em> worthless,</em>" she repeated.  "They are stupid and they forget the lessons.  And it makes <em> you </em> forget, Herr Deutschland.  You'll forget even <em>this,</em> eventually.  As soon as you have a new heart, you won't remember sitting here with me."<br/><br/>"You're insane," he said softly.<br/><br/>"No," she shook her head.  "I'm extremely intelligent, and I make no claim to give half a fuck about anyone but myself and mine.  You're <em> selfish</em>.  You would have blamed your brother and your cousin for everything you did.  And then you would forget, like you always have done, while they are forced to remember.   Because the land <em> can't </em> forget, Herr Deutschland.  No matter what you do to it, it will <em> always </em> bear the scars."  She dropped to her knees at his side.  "Oregon would have forgotten being raped, yes," she went on, "but I don't <em> want </em> it to be forgotten.  Because when you forget, it happens again.  And we learn <em> nothing." </em>   She paused.  "I want you to keep a secret from your brother for me.  Don't even think about telling him with your secret code because you don't have that anymore.  Russia will make sure of that.  After your brother had his fun with me, I had to tell Denmark what had happened.  Do you have any idea how much that hurt?  I was supposed to be <em> his</em>.  He was supposed to be my <em> only</em>.  And both your brother and you stole that from us.  I will hate you <em> forever." </em><br/><br/>"Why should I do anything for <em>you?" </em> He turned from her, but she came even closer.  Her hands reached out and gripped his shoulders, pulling him nearer to her, and that was when he smelled it.  Anise, the faintest trace, mixed in with her own scent of trees and rain.<br/><br/><em> Bruder</em>.<br/><br/>He felt his mouth forming a savage, triumphant smile.  "You smell like him, Washington.  You smell like my brother."<br/><br/>She froze.  He could see clearly the uncertainty in her eyes.  And the dread.  <em> Because she already knew</em>.</p><p>The scar from Prussia's claimstake stood out very clearly.<br/><br/>"You are <em> pregnant," </em> he hissed gleefully.  <em> "Now </em> what are you going to do?  Was <em>that</em> the secret you wanted me to keep?  He will know that you are carrying his offspring, Washington.  As they grow he will sense them.  Oh, and I can understand why he chose you.  You're <em> perfect </em> for bearing German blood.  If I hadn't been so hung up on my brother and what he wanted, I would have done it myself.  I wanted to; you wanted it just as much as I did, and you <em> know </em> it.  When we made love the night I let you go, you <em> begged </em> me to take you.  Remember, Katrina?”  He reached out and touched her face, stroking her jaw.  The muscles jumped beneath his hand, but she couldn't move away from his touch as her body remembered their connection.  He smiled and drew her nearer to him, his mouth brushing over hers.  She shivered.  “The way you felt in my arms.  How you melted in my hands.  I could take you right here, couldn't I?  Not so smug now, are we?"<br/><br/>She stared at him, utterly unable to deny any of it.  He was right, and he knew it.  His lips brushed hers again, then pressed against them softly, testing; she kissed him back firmly, hungrily, and in a horrible moment she was fumbling at his belt.  His hands closed around hers and they began to undress each other, with Germany pushing her back against the wall.  He took her there, somehow managing to fuck her and finish without anyone walking past his cell.</p><p>From another room, America watched, stunned beyond belief, as Germany and his daughter made love.  From the way she was reacting to him, he could see that this was <em> not </em> their first time.  He felt his blood pressure rising as she did and said things that he had no idea she had even <em>learned.</em></p><p>“You naughty girl,” Germany murmured as she panted in his arms, still trembling from his touch.  “You naughty, naughty thing."  He kissed her neck, and she moaned.  He smiled as she dropped to her knees before him and took him into her mouth, bringing him to another orgasm.  As she swallowed his seed he purred, "What a <em> wicked </em> little thing you are, Katrina!  Whatever will your <em> precious </em> Denmark think?”</p><p>"Shut up," she whispered, as he pulled her up to kiss her.  She kissed him back, unable to stop herself.  It was more vital than breathing.  The part that wanted him was <em> much </em> stronger than the part that didn't.</p><p>"Shall I claim you, then?" he murmured, caressing her delicious little clit.  America flinched.  <em> Katrina, my God, no, </em> he thought<em>.</em>  She shivered.  "Should I override my brother's claim and take you for mine?  Or will you be our little whore and let us <em> both </em> have you?"</p><p>She pushed him to the floor, pinning him swiftly.  "You know that I am your whore," she hissed, her eyes gleaming with lust; a sinister little chuckle purred in his throat.  America shook his head in horrified disbelief.  What the bloody hell was <em>happening? </em> "Now shut up and <em> fuck me!" </em></p><p>His hands closed around her throat.  "Oh, I'll fuck you," he murmured, "and you're going to wish it was me <em> every time </em> Denmark lays down with you."</p><p>Her eyes were blazing, the pupils blown out with want and need.  "I already do," she growled, as he tore into her.  America had finally had enough, and leapt to his feet and charged down the hall towards that awful room.  He could now hear her voice coming from a room not too far away. <em> "Yes! </em> Do me hard, Ludwig!"</p><p>As he fucked her, his hands tightened around her windpipe.  Her face began to turn red, and then purple as she struggled to breathe.  The next thing he knew he was flying across the room as America pulled him away from an unconscious Washington.</p><p>"GET HER TO MEDICAL NOW," America roared.  Then he advanced on Germany, who now wished very sincerely that he had been shot for war crimes. <em>"What. The.  Fuck! </em>   What the fuck has gotten into you, Ludwig?  <em> What the hell!? </em>   She offered to help you to recover, which is more than anyone <em>else</em> thinks you deserve; you repay her by <em> raping </em> her?  Choking her out?"</p><p>Germany didn't know what to say.  America drew back and punched him once, twice; he was on the ground and curled into a protective ball before America could hit him again.  But America was hardly finished.  "You'd better fucking hope she's okay.  Because if she isn't, I'm not the only one you need to worry about."</p><p>To his absolute horror, she actually came back to his cell after she came around again, which happened rather quickly.  He found that he couldn't bear it and muttered something about her just surviving to spite him.</p><p>That turned out to be <em>exactly</em> the wrong thing for him to say.  "Oh, fuck you!" she shouted, and pulled away, striking him in the face.  Her service ring caught the skin and tore a deep gash in his cheek.  "I ought to <em>kill</em> you," she panted, balling her hands into fists.  He knew that if she hit him now, it could very well be fatal to him.  But even after the beating from America, he was in absolute bliss from fucking her and being fucked by her; now, seeing her like this, in hopeless despair, was <em> exquisite</em>.<br/><br/>"Go on," he purred, all the pain in his body forgotten in his victory.  "Do it.  But it will do you no good.  You are <em> ours </em> now, and will be ours forever.  You know it, and I know it.  And your precious Denmark will know it too."<br/><br/><em> "Shut up!" </em> she screamed, and he had forgotten how powerful her voice was; he recoiled in agony as the tiny window in his cell-room exploded outwards. The guard on duty raced to the door, but without even turning her head, Washington roared at him to leave.<br/><br/>He complied instantly.  Germany had never felt as threatened as he did at that moment.<br/><br/>"Now," Washington hissed, closing in on him, "I will <em> end </em> you."<br/><br/>He forgot all about his feelings of superiority.  When her fist slammed into his chest, every single cell in his body sang with resonant agony.  She bore down, deep into him, and viciously ripped out his still-beating heart.  In terror, he stared at it, horrible and black yet writhing and alive.  As he stared, she crushed it in her hand, gripping him close to her so she could speak into his ear.<br/><br/>"I hate you, Germany.  I  hate your brother.  And you are <em> nothing," </em> she hissed.  "You deserve everything that happens to you now."<br/><br/>"...Heart," he stuttered, nearly unable to speak.  She stared emotionlessly into his eyes.<br/><br/>"You have to let them come to you," she told him.  "The ones who really love you.  They are there," she added.  "You just need to seek them out."</p><p>“Please,” he begged, “what is love?”</p><p>She turned away.  “I don't know,” she said softly.  “I do not love.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  Now her eyes met his.</p><p>“I know,” she replied.</p><p>
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<a name="section0026"><h2>26. The Hardest Thing About Remembrance is the Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>America must deal with the reality  of his daughter's memories and the effects on the nations.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Well," America sighed, tossing his cap onto the table.  He loosed his tie and sank wearily into the oxblood leather chair in England's office.  "It's done.  She did it.  Germany will make a full recovery and everything can get back to normal."<br/><br/>England and Denmark looked at each other.<br/><br/>"What?"<br/><br/>"Where have you been?" England demanded.<br/><br/>America looked away.  "I went out for a drink.  Why?  What's wrong?"<br/><br/>"Washington is ill," Denmark informed him.  "We took her to hospital.  For some reason they wouldn't let me stay," he added, annoyed.  "Some stupid rule about family members only.  Those idiots have <em>no</em> idea, if they don't think I'm her family.”</p><p>"Well, I'm sure we can talk to someone about that," America said.  "Did the doctor know what is wrong?"<br/><br/>England looked doubtful.  "He said it could be exhaustion, because I know she hasn't slept well in mon--"</p><p>"Years," America interrupted.</p><p>"Ever," Denmark corrected them both.  </p><p>America sighed and looked at both of them.  "Well, why don't we go to see her, then?" <br/><br/>"You're forgetting something," England suggested.  America shrugged.  Exasperated, England slammed his teacup down.  "Our <em> agreement, </em> Alfred.  As soon as Germany got a new heart you promised me that you would allow me to wipe Washington's memories."<br/><br/>"Wait, what?" Denmark exclaimed.  <em> "No!  </em>You can't do that to her.  She's been through <em> enough! </em>   Why would you do that?"<br/><br/>"It's quite simple," England said.  "You and Prussia have fought before.  You and Germany have fought before.  All of you are old hands at conflict.  You fight, you win or lose, and you get over it.  Between wars you are even friends.  Well, in case you didn't notice, Washington holds quite the vicious little grudge there, and I don't know if you realize, but she has hated Prussia and Germany ever since she found out what happened to you during the second Schleswig war.  Keep in mind that it had nothing at all to do with her, but they targeted <em> you</em>.  America had to keep both Prussia and Germany away from her when they came to settle, and even then she tried to kill both of them.  And you know <em> damn </em> well what she did as soon as she came over with America during the Great War.  Because of <em> you, </em> Denmark.  Not because Germany sank America's ships.  And if we don't want a repeat of that sort of thing then we would do well to make sure she forgets that it ever happened.  She will <em>never</em> forgive Prussia for what he did to her, no matter how much time passes.  She is not like you in this way.  She will hate him until the very end of time unless we remove all of it."<br/><br/>"What he did to her was terrible," Denmark said, angrily.  "There was no cause for it.  If you make her forget it then he just gets away with it."<br/><br/>"No," America said.  "He doesn't.  Russia has taken him.  He's going to be very sorry that he ever laid a hand on her."<br/><br/>"Forgetting is dangerous," Denmark protested.  "If we forget we do not learn."<br/><br/>England inclined his head.  "That is true, but neither you nor Prussia will forget.  Although he may wish that he could."<br/><br/>"Then why her?  Why wipe her memories?  <em> No," </em> Denmark said firmly.  "I can't let you do it.  You'll make her empty!  She won't <em> know </em> me!"  He raised his voice.  "You aren't going to steal her from me!  She's <em>mine!"</em><br/><br/>"Mathias!" America gasped.  "He isn't trying to steal anything.  He's trying to <em> help </em> her."<br/><br/>Denmark clenched his fists.  "I ought to punch you," he declared, glaring at England.  "You will <em> not </em> touch her."<br/><br/>"She won't forget you," England said, patiently.  "She won't forget about anyone.  She will simply not remember exactly why she's been angry with them.  And if she cannot remember that, then she can move on."<br/><br/>Angrily Denmark shook his head.  "Not you.  I know what you will do to her, and I don't want you to do it."<br/><br/>"I have to do it," England said.  "Denmark.  Mathias.  Listen to me.  I won't make her forget how much you love each other.  I promise, I don't want her."  But he looked away, unable to meet Denmark's gaze.  "I know how much you are a part of each other."  At this, America looked up sharply, stunned.  He had not realised that it had been so obvious to anyone else.  Neither England nor Denmark paid him any attention.  Their eyes were locked.  "You have my word, Mathias," England went on.  "I promise.  I've seen it with my own eyes.  I wouldn't do that," he promised.<br/><br/>"Norge will do it," Denmark insisted.  "Not you."<br/><br/>"Mathias, please," America began, still reeling from England's statement.  "Arthur knows what he's doing,  and he knows her--"<br/><br/>"So does Norge."<br/><br/>England sighed.  "Mathias, I've known her since Alfred adopted her--"<br/><br/>"Norge has known her longer," Denmark countered.<br/><br/>"It's true," America said softly.  "He’s right.  Arthur, give him what he wants.  I know you wouldn't hurt her,” he added.  “But he loves her, and she needs that.  She's never let me love her."<br/><br/>England turned to him in surprise.  "Alfred, you can't be serious!"<br/><br/>America clenched his teeth.  "Goddamn it, Arthur, can't you just let me do this <em>one</em> thing without second guessing me?  I finally have the chance to do something that will help her.  She never lets <em>anyone</em> help her.  Let me have this <em>one</em> fucking thing."<br/><br/>Frowning, England stepped forward and put his hands flat on the desk.  "What's gotten into you?  She's going to be fine, Alfred.  All we need to do is make sure she's able to have constructive relationships with Germany and Prussia ...”<br/><br/>"And she will.  I'll send her to Copenhagen forthwith," he announced, nodding to Denmark.  "You can take her tonight."<br/><br/>As everyone prepared to leave, England stopped America in the corridor.  "Alfred, this is <em> very </em> dangerous.  Are you sure about this?"<br/><br/>"Positive," America said firmly. <br/><br/>"She'd be safer going through this with us," England continued.  "We're her people."<br/><br/>"They're her people too, Arthur.  More than we have ever been.  Now drop it," America said firmly.  "We'll go to see her, and if she can be moved, I'll have her sent with Denmark.  If Norway agrees to help, of course."<br/><br/>Denmark had already made the call.  As he hung up the telephone he announced, "That was Norway just now.   He's making the arrangements straight away."<br/><br/>Frowning strenuously, England shook his head.  "I have a bad feeling about this."</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0027"><h2>27. I Only Wanted You to Love Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As Oregon watches over her sleeping sister, France and Canada force America to take a look back on his relationship with both Oregon and Washington.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Alfred, you must come with me, mon ami," France said from the doorway.  "Quickly, before it is time for them to transport her to Denmark's hospital.  I believe it is only an hour from now," he added.  Oregon stood at his side, holding tightly to his hand.  America saw this plainly and only turned his head, not saying a word. </p><p>"Daddy, I'll stay with Kate until it's time for her to go," Oregon added.  "Francis has something that he needs to talk to you about."  Her deep blue eyes regarded Washington's sleeping form, which looked long and slight beneath the blankets.  America sighed.</p><p>"Fine," he said, pushing himself up.  He felt guilty for leaving her side, because wasn't that what he <em>always</em> had done?  She would rage against him and he would back away, sometimes pushing her, sometimes screaming back at her to just go, see if he cared.</p><p>She would be fine, but she was dangerously exhausted and according to their special doctor, there was no telling how long she would need to rest.  </p><p>As Oregon settled into the chair he had just vacated, France bent down to her and she turned her face to kiss him.  America noticed this, too, but he still did not comment.  </p><p>Then her hair moved, and he saw the clear mark of France's teeth, precise and perfect on her neck. </p><p><em>It could be worse,</em> he thought, though he didn't like it one bit.  </p><p>"Your daughter is a fine young woman, Alfred," France said as he swept America down the hall.  "I have been meaning to speak with you about her.  I am sure you have noticed that I have marked her.  We can wait until this is all settled," he added.  "I will not be able to offer her anything for many years, I'm afraid.  We have agreed to wait," he repeated.  "But I am proud to call her my woman, Amérique.  She is of great renown in la Normandie.  Many of my citizens owe her their lives."</p><p>Slowly America became aware of the gravity of France's words.  "What?  Oregon?  But she's so...soft," he murmured.  </p><p>"Mon ami, she experienced great and terrible things the day she jumped into hell," France replied.  "You do not know, because she did not want to tell you.  But my people are free again to be French because of her.  Because of all of them."  </p><p>America frowned thoughtfully.  "Where are we going?"</p><p>"Here."  France threw open a set of double doors, and America found himself in the hospital chapel.  As with all Germany's hospitals now, this was more of a place for grief than for actual worship.  The sadness in the room was palpable. </p><p>"Mattie!"</p><p>Canada turned towards him, holding a large book in his lap.  </p><p>America threw himself down next to his brother.  "I thought you were going to help Nederland.  Why are you still here?"</p><p>"I couldn't just <em>leave</em>, Al," Canada said.  "Katie needs us."</p><p>"Mon fils, Oregon is right," France reminded him gently.  "Washington would expect you to keep your promises to him."<br/><br/>"And what about <em> my </em> promise to <em> her?" </em> Canada exclaimed.  Suddenly, America understood how his brother felt, because he had never in his life felt as invisible as he did at that moment.  The grief on Canada's face hurt him to look at.  "I promised to keep her safe, and <em>look</em> what happened!  I ran away from her when she needed me and Prussia almost <em>destroyed</em> her!"<br/><br/>"She is <em>not</em> destroyed, and she will be fine," France said firmly.<br/><br/>"I'm no better than <em> him," </em> Canada exclaimed, making an angry gesture at America. <br/><br/><em> "Matthieu!" </em><br/><br/>Canada whirled on America, ignoring their papa.  "You've <em> never </em> loved her," he accused.  "The only reason you're here right now is because you feel <em> guilty! </em> You don't <em>care</em> whether she lives or dies.  You never have!"</p><p>France stepped forward and firmly grasped the book in Canada's hands.  "Matthieu, screaming at him will not help anything.  He needs to <em> see," </em> he insisted.  "We <em> all </em> need to see.  For we are all blinded by our own perspective."<br/><br/>"No," America said softly, "he's right."<br/><br/>"He is <em> not," </em> France insisted.  "Both of you are hurting."  He looked severely at his son.  "Matthieu knows better than to speak out of anger."<br/><br/>The air in the room seemed to grow warmer.  "What is that book?" America asked, but he knew.  The cover was scarred and cracked, the binding being the only thing holding it together.  It creaked audibly when France opened it, and small flecks of silver and gold fluttered into the air.  The gold twinkled softly, serenely; it danced gently in the air and slowly dimmed.  The silver flashed brilliantly and then bloomed into red flame.  Sparking and snapping, it smoldered, lending a fey light that was at once sullen and vibrant.</p><p>
  <em> A golden haired little one raced through a field of buttercups and daisies towards a taller figure in the distance.  Her hair was done up in ponytails and bounced as she ran.  Her laughter pealed out like birdsongs.  Like a miniature sun, she shone so brightly that she seemed to put off her own light.  The figure in the distance turned towards her.  England’s own smile rivaled hers.  As she neared him, she tried to slow down and walk like a little lady, but couldn’t quite do it.  Laughing, England scooped her up into his arms and she kissed him. </em>
</p><p>America smiled brightly.  Oregon had been just as adorable as a little one as she was now.</p><p>
  <em> A tiny figure cloaked in grey stood at the very edge of the world, staring down at the roaring ocean below her.  Her enormous grey eyes tracked a solitary figure on the beach.  Russia paused, perhaps sensing his little one’s gaze.  He looked up at her and their eyes met.  Her little face was expressionless, but those huge grey eyes held more emotion than America had ever seen in them.  Russia’s mouth turned up and his pale eyes twinkled in the rarest of smiles. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Little blonde Oregon sat at table between America and England, impeccably dressed, learning proper dining etiquette.  She imitated England perfectly as he lifted his teacup and saucer.  On her other side, America made faces and rolled his eyes, laughing.  Oregon turned to him, stiffly, and gave him a severe look as England beamed in approval. </em>
</p><p>America chuckled and shook his head.</p><p>
  <em> Little red-haired Pacific Russia, the future Washington, sat on Russia’s shoulders, weaving a crown of red thistles into his hair as they walked along the beach.  They spoke little, but when they did, it was in Russian, and Russia’s tone was loving. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oregon skipped happily along the banks of the wide river--the Columbia--holding America’s hand.  When she caught a fleeting glimpse of another little one, she stopped short, but when America looked for her, Pacific Russia was nowhere in sight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Finland and his little one with Russia stood on the riverbanks at Naselle, watching from their house to see the ship from Sweden coming into the harbor at Ilwaco.  Sweden and Pacific Russia met for the first time that day, and Sweden, studying her closely, saw something about her that made him nod in approval. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oregon finally managed to catch sight of Pacific Russia; beckoning excitedly, she called for the red-haired little one to play with her.  But Pacific Russia, still unable to speak English, shrank back hard against Russia, who put his arms around her in comfort instead of forcing her to introduce herself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pacific Russia standing alone on the narrow sand of Cape Flattery, facing the sea; hearing the sound of a heavy horse galloping towards her, she turned and stared at the young man riding a massive horse:  Denmark.  He was riding straight towards her, and when he reached her he brought the horse up to a gentle stop and stared at the little one in amazement, taking her in.  Then their eyes met and though she was only a little one, he was hopelessly lost. </em>
</p><p>America’s smile did not falter, but he was a little confused.  When had <em>this</em> happened?</p><p>
  <em> Pacific Russia approached the horse--Stjarnebjørn--fearlessly and reached up to stroke his glossy flank.  The great beast reacted in deference, bowing his head to her:  his King’s future Queen.  He whickered at her and Pacific Russia turned back to Denmark and in flawless Danish softly said her name:  “Mit navn er Katrina.” </em>
</p><p>America gasped.  Etiquette would have demanded that she give him her Land Name first--she had not been Washington then, but Pacific Russia.  And Denmark would have then given her his Kingdom Name.</p><p>
  <em> Denmark’s smile could have made the sun look weak in comparison.  “Mit navn er Mathias.” </em>
</p><p>America’s heart did a funny flip in his chest.  What was he witnessing?</p><p>
  <em> She looked at him quizzically. </em>
</p><p><em> “Kongeriget Danmark,” he added, and she smiled back, relieved.  Then he helped her onto Stjarnebjørn’s back and held her in his arms as they rode together down the beach, the wind blowing their hair.  The horse held his head proudly as he carried them; no one else aside from the two of them--the King and future Queen of Scandinavia--would ever ride him.  Pacific Russia  looked up at Denmark and he smiled down at her and kissed her nose.  This made her smile in a way America had </em>never<em> seen her do as a little one.  All the way to her house in Deep River they rode, and Finland greeted them happily upon arrival. </em></p><p>
  <em> England and America took Oregon on a trip to Paris, where France happily showed the little one his beautiful City of Lights.  On the last night he walked her along the Seine and showed her the most famous places in the city, sharing a chocolate mousse with her.  He finished the night by telling her the story of Jeanne d’Arc; stroking her silky blonde curls, he told her how much they resembled each other.  Thrilled to be compared to someone so brave and lovely, Oregon threw her arms around Francis Bonnefoy and kissed his cheeks.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Tiny hands held a rope, hesitating.  A pair of larger hands, scarred and strong, closed gently over the little ones and together they made the knot; over and over they tied each knot together until she could do them herself, even the most complicated ones.  As Finland watched with a smile of approval, little red-haired Pacific Russia--the future Washington--learned knots from Kongeriget Danmark.  If she made a mistake, he would immediately correct her, gently and without upsetting her.  Not once did she lose her temper or burst into frustrated tears. </em>
</p><p>“What... the... <em>fuck…”</em>  America whispered, unable to believe what he was seeing.  Washington had <em> never </em> been patient while sitting at lessons with him.</p><p>
  <em> Oregon and Pacific Russia were finally acquainted; sitting side by side at America’s house, playing with dolls as America wrote a long letter to someone of great importance.  Oregon’s two dolls were getting married, while Pacific Russia was hard at work making something for hers.  When she finished, she held it up and Oregon screamed at the doll hanging from the hangman’s noose.  Horrified, America snatched Oregon into his arms to comfort her and shouted angrily at Pacific Russia, who dropped the doll and the noose and ran from the house, demolishing the door and the wall that it struck. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Finland walked her back to the house and gently coaxed her to apologise; Pacfic Russia did apologise to Oregon, but in her upset state, she forgot how to say it in English and said it in Finnish instead.  Then she glared black anger at America with an intensity that still upset his stomach. </em>
</p><p>America’s smile faded a little.</p><p>
  <em> The Nordics all at Finland’s Deep River home; Norge and Ísland sitting on the back deck watching Sverige and Finland build an outdoor kitchen.  Denmark, instead of helping, was sitting in the grass with Pacific Russia in a patch of sunshine, lovingly plaiting her long red hair into the Viking style that she would henceforth wear.  As he braided, he wove her grey velvet ribbon into the middle section, creating an intricate pattern.  Every once in a while, although he masked it well, Finland looked over at the two of them and smiled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pacific Russia arriving in København for the first time, running straight to Denmark at the harbor like an arrow shot; he caught her up in his arms and kissed her little face as she laughed joyously. </em>
</p><p>America’s smile froze on his face.  </p><p>He had <em> never </em> heard Washington laugh as a little one.</p><p>
  <em> Sweden helping Pacific Russia prepare Denmark’s birthday surprise; the normally stoic Viking actually grinning as the little one told him excitedly about the tree she had brought for them to plant together, her perfect Danish sounding like a song. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pacific Russia’s tiny hands in the dirt, next to Denmark’s as they planted their tree in the center of the Nordics’ garden. </em>
</p><p>America was alarmed to discover that his heart was pounding.  Why hadn’t he been aware of any of these things?  When had they happened?  He remembered the doll with the noose, but that had been <em>long</em> before he had begun the process of adopting her.</p><p>
  <em> Oregon meeting the Nordics formally for the first time, watching enviously as Washington--still known as Pacific Russia then--played with Iceland, speaking his language easily.  She watched as the two bombarded Denmark with giant fluffy snowballs, and he finally enlisted Sweden’s help, after which the two little ones ran screaming to Norway, who used his magic to allow the little ones to float above the snow, and they escaped their foes.  Oregon watched all of it and wished desperately that she wasn’t so timid to get her dress wet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> America sitting down with Oregon and asking her how she would feel about having Тихоокеанская Россия as a sister, and Oregon’s delighted response brought his smile back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pacific Russia sitting outside in the dark, listening with a miserable expression to Russia and Finland as they argued in the house.  Not with each other, but about something.  As the raging pair shouted at each other, a single tear ran down her cheek.  Finally, they began to calm down. </em>
</p><p><em> “Nyet!  Nyet!  I will </em>not<em> let him have her, Tino,” Russia said in a much calmer voice.  “We will find another way.” </em></p><p><em> But there </em>was<em> no other way. </em></p><p>America’s smile trembled and began to slip.</p><p>
  <em> Oregon and Pacific Russia on the narrow beach at Cape Flattery, building a sand fort.  Suddenly, a large black bear lumbered out of the thick trees and ran straight for them; Oregon screamed as it stood up on its back legs and growled at them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pacific Russia, however, was having none of that.  She stood up and charged the bear; it swiped at her and she swatted it back.  Then, she seized it by its stubby tail and heaved it back into the trees, where it left a mess of tangled, splintered wood.  Then she turned back to Oregon, who was staring in awe at her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Stop to cry now,” she said in her best English, reaching out to touch Oregon's shoulder briefly, “bear is gone, see?  You do not hurt.  It didn’t to get you.” </em>
</p><p>“My God,” America murmured, remembering his own childhood and the buffalo.  He had known she was stronger than she looked, but he had not known about this.</p><p>
  <em>Pacific Russia looking in alarm at the ship docking in her harbor.  Prussia had come to meet her, and had brought his little brother.  The Schleswig wars had not yet happened, so she had no prejudice against Prussia, but she was still wary.  The two little ones glared at each other with mistrust, but they slowly opened up to each other. </em>
</p><p>America grinned.  It was like watching a poppy bloom.  You would think that the two little ones were falling in love with one another.</p><p>...And perhaps they had?  </p><p>
  <em>Although she spoke no German and he spoke no Danish, she began to smile at little Germany when he spoke to her and he, when she spoke to him; by the end of his visit, little Pacific Russia allowed little Germany to kiss her in farewell.  But instead of kissing her on the cheek like before, this time, he kissed her mouth.  Then she kissed him back.  For a moment they held hands and looked at each other in silence.  Finally she smiled and said, "Farvel!" </em>
</p><p><em>His eyes on hers were solemn and as blue as the summer sky.  He felt nearly powerful in the grip of her gaze.  And for a moment they held hands and looked at each other.  She turned away, and stopped when she saw Prussia's blood red eyes, glaring at her from the corner of reality.  He was one of the 7, and was the rumoured favorite of the Queen.  Between them was the unspoken volumes of the diary, in letter form, </em>was it there all along for my brother to bear?<em>  America wondered.  He never was made to endure unexplainable loss.  It's worse because you know goddamn why it happened, but it's completely unexplainable in human terms. </em></p><p>
  <em>Why, George?  Why did she have to take you so seriously?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because, Georgia.  If she hadn't it would mean you weren't worth their time.  But you are.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She and Germany stared at each other, and at last she smiled.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Kom tilbage," she said earnestly.  "Jeg vil savne dig."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then she ran back to Denmark to watch them leave the harbor from the safety and comfort of his arms.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When Denmark visited, Pacific Russia did not sleep in her room.  She spent each night in the warmth of his embrace.  Some nights he did not sleep; he held her all night, staring down into her peaceful face as she slept in his arms.  In the morning the first one awake would kiss the sleeping one’s nose.  More often than not, the first one awake was Denmark, and he would cover her little face in kisses. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Godmorgen, elskede,” he would whisper as she blinked her enormous grey eyes sleepily.  “Sov du godt, min skat?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To which she would always reply, “Ja.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He would then carry her downstairs to the kitchen and make their breakfast, which they would then eat outdoors during nice weather or at the kitchen hearth during winter or rain. </em>
</p><p><em> Oregon watching out the window of her house anxiously, waiting for any sign of America on the road from the East, and the Civil war that was changing him. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Pacific Russia running at breakneck speed down a pier, the closest thing to terror on her face that America had ever seen.  She ran right into a freshly-arrived Denmark, grabbing the dockhand who blocked her way and tossing him into the water.  Seizing Denmark by the leg and screaming at him; when he took her up into his arms protectively she sobbed and clung to him.  He did what he could to soothe her, but when a familiar voice called out to her, she screamed again.   </em></p><p>
  <em> “Nej!  Gå mid dig!  Nej, nej nej!"</em>
</p><p><em> She began hyperventilating and stared in fright over her shoulder at a steadily approaching America, with Finland and Russia right behind him.  Denmark's face darkened with anger and his arms tightened around her, but what was about to happen could not be stopped, even by the strength of a Viking defending his love. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em>America could not bear to watch what happened next.  As she was forcibly separated from Denmark, Pacific Russia’s piercing screams and Denmark's pained sobs tore through him like daggers to the heart.</p><p><em> "Mathias!" she screamed.  Struggling wildly, she tried desperately to break free of America's arms.  "Nej!  Nej!  Lad mig </em> gå! <em> Lad mig </em> gå! <em> Jeg hader dig!"  She hit America's arms as hard as she could, and he nearly lost hold of her.  She screamed in rage and bit him.  Dropping her, he shouted at Russia to grab her.  She looked at her Папа with utter betrayed hurt.  Then she called out to Denmark.  "Mathias!  Hjælp!"  </em></p><p>
  <em> "Skat," Denmark sobbed, "elskede, græd ikke, skat.   Jeg vil redde dig!  Jeg elsker dig!  Vent, Katrina.  Jeg vil redde dig!" </em>
</p><p>America sank to his knees, lowering his head.  It had taken ten days for her to recover enough for him to take her from Deep River.  But she had not slept, eaten, or spoken since he had so callously pulled her from Denmark's arms.  It would be another two weeks before she did any of those things.  And she did them only after she was allowed to see her Denmark again.  He gazed at his hand and touched the tiny holes her teeth had made.  It had bled until the day she saw Den again, he remembered, and it had never quite healed properly.  Tears filled America's eyes as he remembered how the two of them had clung to each other.  She had sobbed in such relief, with Denmark shushing her, stroking her hair and rocking her in his arms, just as relieved to be holding her as she was to be held by him.</p><p>
  <em>“Elskede, elskede, det er okay,” Denmark had cooed.  "Vi er sammen igen.  Jeg har dig.  Jeg har min Katrina. Jeg vil aldrig lade dig gå."  He closed his eyes and hummed softly as he kissed her cheeks; her eyes; her forehead; he stroked her hair, rocking her, and she clung to him, trembling in relief.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Jeg elsker dig altid," she whispered, putting her face against his shoulder.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Det ved jeg," he whispered back, smoothing her hair away from her face.  They touched their foreheads together, letting their energies flow together, and then they smiled at each other as he began to braid her incredibly long, incredibly red hair.  "Jeg elsker dig også, min skat."  They had slept in each other's arms that night and every night for the week that followed; they spent the days together riding Stjarnebjørn; swimming in the ocean; and walking through the deep green rainforest until Denmark had to return to København.    </em>
</p><p>Only afterwards could America take her home with him, and even then it had not been easy.</p><p><em>Oregon waited in excitement as America appeared, dragging a reluctant and crying Pacific Russia--soon to be renamed Washington--with him.  The little red-haired girl kept gazing over her shoulder and pulling against America, who finally gave up and allowed her to run back to Finland.  Without forcing her, Finland bent down and spoke gently to her, but only after Russia stepped forward to take her other little hand did she move towards America and Oregon.  Both nations had tears in their eyes.</em><em><br/></em><em><br/></em>America bit down on his lip, feeling something within him trembling.<br/><br/>They had loved her and had not wanted to give her up.  She had loved them and had not wanted to go.</p><p>She had not wanted him.</p><p>
  <em>Oregon happily showing America her needlepoint, while Washington glared sullenly over her own frame and stitched Danish profanity in strong, thick stitches. America shouting at her, shaking the completed piece in his fist.  Although the work was well done, it was hardly ladylike.  As he upbraided her for being inappropriate, she turned her back and he reached out to grab her, trying to get her to face him, but she lashed out and pulled away with such force that he stumbled.  Another door and wall were demolished.</em>
</p><p>America looked down at his hand, flexing it.  Even today, nearly a hundred years later, the spot where she'd bitten him still hurt from time to time.  He ran his finger over the tiny holes her teeth had made, wondering why it hadn't healed like his other injuries.  He had very few scars; because of Pearl Harbor, his back was lined with the pink scars of burned skin; the Civil War had split his chest nearly in half with a shiny purple scar.  The burning of his Capitol Building had scarred his left temple with a lightning bolt.  Other than that... .  This was a <em>different</em> kind of scar.  For only her teeth had <em>ever</em> left a wound that had never quite healed properly.</p><p>What did that mean?</p><p><em>Oregon and England standing together, Oregon telling him all about her new sister.  England slowly knelt down to look closely at Washington, who looked back warily.  But when he held out his hand for her to shake, she took it, and he started in surprise at her firm grasp.  The two of them then smirked at each other knowingly.</em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em>England and America watching Oregon and Washington playing, as they discussed the two girls with slightly worried expressions. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em>A sobbing Oregon threw herself against America's chest, clinging to him and soaking his shirt with her tears as she cried.  He held her gently, soothing her, then shot an angry look over her blonde head at a surly-looking Washington who stood defiantly on the porch.  A teacup lay shattered at her feet.  She picked up the pieces with her bare hands, and he snatched them away from her before she could begin cutting herself, but he didn't speak to her or look at her when he did.</em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em>Then, a raging Washington, weeping and inconsolable, pushing America violently away from her when he tried to embrace her.  She destroyed yet another door--Finland had finally had to show him how to construct a house that could withstand her destruction--and fled from him, taking his favorite horse and going straight to Finland's old place that he still kept so that he could visit.  Denmark was there, surprised but clearly happy to see her.  She sat a considerable distance away from him, still angry and crying, but he didn't move towards her or try to talk to her, and she gradually scooted closer to him until they were side-by-side and she was no longer crying.  Then she laid her head in his lap, and he gently stroked her hair until her eyes slowly closed and she drifted off to sleep.  He bent down to whisper in her ear.  “Jeg elsker dig, Katrina.”  He smoothed her hair and kissed her softly and she smiled in her sleep.</em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em>Oregon, proudly showing off her expanding vocabulary, reading a book to an equally proud America while Washington watched quietly from the stairs, her sharp chin in her hands. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em>Washington and Oregon together, with Washington sitting sentinel at Oregon's bedside, keeping her hydrated and calm as she struggled with the smallpox.  </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em>Oregon wrapping bandages around a victorious Washington's hands as she stood swaying, punch-drunk and bloody-nosed but otherwise unharmed, over a bruised and bleeding Idaho.  America flying over to the three of them and screaming at them for fighting.  Oregon tried to calm him down--Washington and Idaho had only been playing--but he shrugged her off his arm and slapped Washington hard across the face.</em> <em><br/></em></p><p>
  <em> America flinched.  He remembered that moment well, because it was a clear line in his relationship with her.  It was the first time he had truly struck her out of anger.  And it was not the last. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oregon had gasped and reached out to comfort Washington, but she had shoved Oregon away, glaring venomously at America as her pale skin turned dark red where he had struck her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Katrina," he whispered, reaching out to her, but she quickly backed away from him.  He had tried to apologise, but she cut him off at his first intake of breath. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Jeg hader dig," she hissed, her teeth clenched.  Her eyes blazed and she began to tremble with rage.  The earth rumbled as she raised her voice in a scream. </em>
</p><p><em> "Jeg </em>hader<em> dig!" </em></p><p>
  <em> She backed away and grabbed a paperweight and chucked it at him, hitting him directly in the face and breaking his nose.  Blood spurted from his broken nose as she continued to scream and pelt him with things.  Oregon and Idaho could only huddle together as she began to destroy the house.  America could do nothing to stop it.  He ended up crouched in a ball, his arms around his head in an attempt to protect himself.  She finally ran out of things to throw at him and ran from the demolished house, but she wasn't finished.  She further terrified them by throwing rocks through all the first floor windows as a final gesture of her fury. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She took his favorite horse again, riding clear to Surrey to seek out Canada, as Finland was not at Deep River.  She was gone for over a month.  Canada did not return her and he did not ask him to.  When she returned it was on her own, but their relationship was never the same after that. </em>
</p><p><em> "</em>I'm fucking terrible," he said softly, "aren't I?"</p><p>Neither France nor Canada replied.<em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Oregon meeting with the Nordics again, watching as Washington and Iceland buried Denmark beneath piles of snowballs.  Then Denmark proudly set Washington on his shoulders and carried her through snow that came to his knees.  Oregon watched enviously as Washington looked down into Denmark's smiling face, laughing and kissing his nose.  How happy she was!  Oregon thought.  She wished she could play in the snow too.  But once again she didn't dare get her dress wet. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> America sitting in his office, where he had secretly hung Washington's Danish needlepoint on the wall; as he looked at it, he felt strangely proud.</em></p><p><em>Washington standing at stiff attention in a dark grey dress, the thick velvet spilling around her in a puddle on the floor:  the longest skirt she had ever worn.  Her red hair was done up in an elaborate braided crown; Denmark had woven strands of moonstones into it.  She looked stunningly beautiful, but also very miserable and out of place as dignitaries mingled around her.  Her new flag fluttered behind her, snapping in the strong breeze.  For a moment she looked as though she wanted to scream, but then, she caught sight of Denmark calmly watching her from across the room, and slowly relaxed.  They smiled at each other.<br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em>Oregon sneaking over to her in her own fancy dress of deep blue satin, pointing outside at two waiting horses.</em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em>America marching them right back into the ballroom, both girls slightly disheveled from their brief joyride.  He didn't look very angry, though. </em><br/><br/><em>America watching with thoughtful eyes as his little Washington danced a perfect waltz around the packed ballroom in Denmark's arms.  America noticed that he held her very close; it helped to remind himself that it was only to make it less awkward for them to move together.  She gazed up at him with an adoration and devotion that America had never seen before.  Certainly she never looked at America in that way.  Everyone around them noticed the obvious, smiling and cooing in approval.  And the steady way in which he held her gaze spoke of more than just the promise of friendship:  even then, he had known that she would someday</em><em> be his woman.</em></p><p>France cleared his throat.  "Mon fils, I think there's something that you should know about Danemark and Washington," he began.</p><p>America shushed him, staring intently at the open pages.</p><p>"Amerique, he asked you for permission to court her, did he not?" France persisted.  Irritated, America looked up at him.</p><p>"Yes, he did; I told him she was too young," he said.  "Why?"</p><p>"There are some things that you will see here that are not going to be pleasant for you," France warned him.  "They didn't exactly listen to you."</p><p>
  <em>Oregon quickly becoming a perfect little lady of impressive grace and intelligence, making a name for herself among her siblings.  Eating and drinking with curious European nobility, winning them over and boosting her population.  Slowly she grew into the graceful beauty she now was.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Now Washington was standing with Oregon on the front porch, insisting that they must help Uncle Matthew.  America sending them to bed, after a considerable struggle to get Washington inside.  Then fetching her back out to chide her on her language and for eavesdropping.  She screamed and raged at him, hitting Idaho when he came out to see what was going on.  And then for the first time she had threatened to leave him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon looking around with wide eyes at Northern Ireland's house, as America watched with a sorrowful smile, finally in Army uniform, heading off to France to fight.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Washington shoving away from him and running towards Denmark as soon as he set her down on the dock in København, leaping into Denmark's waiting arms and barely looking back to wave to him.  Only after Denmark corrected her, and walked her back to him, did she properly tell him goodbye.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon crying herself to sleep with a letter from America clutched in her hands.  Northern Ireland watching over her in grief.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Washington sitting up, staring into the darkness and then looking down at the sleeping Denmark at her side; softly kissing him but not to wake him, she stalked silently through the house with a tiny candle, quickly gathering a small kit bag together with what seemed to be only knives, glancing up every so often to make sure Denmark had not heard her.  Stealing out of the house, and going straight to the train station. </em>
</p><p>America had not known, until that day, that Washington and Denmark had shared a bed.  And even though Denmark was his friend, he did not like knowing it one bit.</p><p><em>Oregon sitting by the window, staring into the rain of Ireland, waiting for the post and another letter from America</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Washington sitting quietly on the train going into France.  Getting off, and asking an officer politely where the front was, because she had a special delivery to make.  Running as soon as she knew the man realised that he had just given a child directions to the war. </em>
</p><p>America wished he could freeze the image of Washington's face as she ran towards Belleau Woods.  Her face was expressionless, but her grey eyes were full of hatred and dread.</p><p>
  <em>Denmark waking suddenly, his eyes opening wide as he sensed his little one's absence; flying out of bed in absolute panic, looking everywhere for Washington in the house and knowing that he wouldn't find her; finally contacting America in tears as Finland and Sweden tried to comfort him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon jumping up and down in excitement at the news of the victory in France, hugging a relieved Northern Ireland and Wales as they all wept with joy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Washington creeping through the mist towards an unsuspecting Germany, daggers in both hands, but before she could pounce on him, Hungary noticed her, so she quickly pretended to slip in the mud.  Now he saw her, but Hungary lifted her up, calling to Austria that someone's child was--and that was all she got out before Washington twisted in her arms and plunged the daggers right into her eye and heart.  Germany tried to pull her off, but she bit him, leaving a scar in his forearm that he still had to this day.  She dropped to the ground as Hungary bled out, running into Canada's arms.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>America shouting at a sullen-looking Washington, gesturing furiously as she silently cried.  He demanded to know why she couldn't be more like her sister Oregon, and that was the last straw.  She finally screamed back when he turned his back on her so loudly that it blew out his eardrums.</em>
</p><p><em>"She's </em>not<em> my sister!  You </em>stole<em> me from my real family, and I </em>hate<em> you!"</em></p><p>
  <em>Then she burst into tears of rage and flung herself at him, burying her face in his legs.  He picked her up and sat down with her, holding her until she fell asleep.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>America reluctantly sitting down with a growing Washington and showing her several business proposals and trade offers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon waving to them as they embarked on the ship to Europe.</em>
</p><p><em>Washington introducing herself to North and South Italy.  North Italy, Venezia Felicia, as bubbly and friendly as she ever was.  Her twin brother, the normally surly South Italy, or Romano Lovino, looking at her with real interest and smiling at her, liking what he saw</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Visiting her isä Finland and the rest of the Nordics.  Denmark stunned at her sudden growth, standing back to back with her and pointing out her new height. Iceland giggled when his big brother suddenly blushed and stammered after Washington hugged him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Washington meeting with several nations who all seemed very taken with her.  South Italy running to her rooms one sunny morning, flinging the door open and rushing in to save her from the horrors that were causing her to scream, only to discover Washington staring at herself in the mirror, having blossomed out into a beautiful young woman practically overnight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>South Italy standing with America, looking suspicious as America enthusiastically clapped him on the back and steered him towards an unsuspecting Washington as she read a book in the Italian sunshine.</em>
</p><p><em>Oregon sitting with Canada on the front </em> <em>porch, happily telling him about the upcoming spelling Bee in which she was participating;</em></p><p>And then something that America had not known about, or expected to see:</p><p><em>Washington and South Italy wrapped around each other in the sun-dappled shade of an orange grove, not just kissing but flat out going hot and heavy; for the first time he called her his</em> gattina, <em>his kitten, and she seemed to have no fear of his experienced hands beneath her clothes.  He picked her up and carried her like a bride into the grove cottage.  Inside there was a bedroom and a fireplace.  They lay down on the bed together, and he swore his desire for her, to which she responded with reciprocation.  He practically crushed her against him, kissing her deeply; their bodies were clearly calling to each other.  Clothing was shed and declarations were made.  But then, just before he thrust up into her to break her open, he paused and drew slightly back, and when she voiced her want for him to continue, he gently refused, kissing her fingers and explaining that the first time should be with someone she loved and trusted.  She protested, because she</em> did <em>want him, but he corrected her, reminding her that there was more to love</em><em> than just wanting, and that she already knew what love was, because she loved someone already, and she should wait to give herself to</em> him.  <em>But she was hurt and confused, until he informed her that there were other ways that he would teach her to express physical love without actually taking her maidenhood, and proceeded to go down on her and make her curl her toes in absolute ecstasy.  It turned out that she already knew about it, thanks to Denmark, because she returned the favor with a level of skill that told America that this was not the first time she had done it.</em><em>  This also explained her lack of fear when Romano was touching her.</em></p><p>"Well I'll be damned," America murmured.</p><p>"Hush, Amérique," France said gently.</p><p>
  <em>Denmark and Washington walked hand in hand across a plaza in København, having just given Amerika the slip; the hand-holding was something new for both of them, and though they had held hands when she was a little one, there was something very different about it now; it was clear to Amerika that Denmark wanted to kiss her.  When he looked at her now, there was a different look in his eyes, and it gave Washington butterflies in her belly, unlike it ever had before.  On that day he did not kiss her, to his credit, but it was getting harder for him not to.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Finally, as they stood beneath their tree in the rain, it happened.  It was her last day in Scandinavia before heading to Chicago for Oregon's spelling Bee and she was reading a book in the shelter of their tree; he had just surprised her with the news that he, too, would be going.  Her book dropped to the ground, forgotten, as they stood in a lovers embrace, deeply kissing at long last as if their very lives depended upon it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The two of them on either side of America, giving each other looks of frustrated helplessness as America kept them firmly place on the picnic blanket by keeping an arm around both of them.  Denmark's hand inched through the quilt towards Washington's and their fingers managed to touch.  They kept looking in longing towards the bustling streets of downtown Chicago, until Washington finally slipped something into America's iced tea that knocked him out cold, and Oregon, thrilled by the prospect of keeping a secret, shooed Washington and Denmark off to have fun.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>America frowned thoughtfully.  By this time, it was painfully clear to anyone with eyes that Denmark was not just attracted to Washington, but he flat-out loved and wanted her, and that it was getting difficult for him to keep his hands off her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sweden, Norway and Denmark visiting Seattle for Syttende Mai; America, very aware of Washington and Denmark's rapidly changing dynamic, tried to keep them apart for decorum's sake, but they managed to hold hands and kiss anyway.</em>
</p><p><em>Oregon and Washington, by this time</em> both<em> young ladies, being brought home by uniformed sailors under America's watchful eye.</em></p><p>
  <em>Oregon standing with Japan, chattering excitedly with him as Washington watched him in suspicion and dislike from several feet away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon, California and America, reeling in agony as the smoke of Pearl Harbor painted the sunrise red.  They sobbed in each other's arms, America holding both Oregon and California to him.  Washington, watching apart from them, had a look of dark rage on her face.  She stared towards Japan's islands, not the burning harbor.  No tears came from her eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Washington slapping signs upon the buildings of her cities, ordering the immediate surrender of all real estate and capital by Japanese people living in her lands.  Her face the mask of hatred and fury America was learning to dread.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon pleading with Washington to calm down, to think about what she was suggesting, as Washington, smiling, looked in satisfaction at a newly-designated internment camp. </em>
</p><p>And then she said something that made America's blood run cold:</p><p><em>"I would imprison</em> his <em>people, too, if there weren't so goddamn </em>many<em> of them!"</em></p><p>She left no doubt <em>whose</em> people she meant.</p><p>
  <em>America with Oregon and Washington, giving his girls the choice of working at home or going over; Oregon went immediately to the shipyard and went to work, and Washington stalked the drydocks of her own naval yards until the ships were ready and she went up against Japan. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon grimly making artillery shells and bullets, her quick hands black with grime.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Washington and California ducking back as their naval guns fired next to them, delivering mortal blows to Japan out in the Pacific. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Washington gazing in wonder at the nearly-completed bomb at Los Alamos; the components, which were hers, had finally been satisfactorily formulated. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon having parachuting instructions in the darkness over the Columbia River gorge.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Washington staring intently at a map of the Normandy coast.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon being trained in hand-to-hand combat with a group of her soldiers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Their arrival in England, familiar to Oregon, who immediately met her papa; but not to her sister, who looked around in suspicion. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon charming and being charmed by the 'British' officer who took her to dinner, blushing as he respectfully kissed her hand.</em>
</p><p>"Francis," America laughed, "you sly thing."</p><p>
  <em>Denmark and Washington finally giving in and meeting at their tree, where they kissed until neither could breathe.  Though Finland had made him promise to wait, his desire for her--and hers for him--had finally been awakened and it was impossible to truly stop.  Keeping her maidenhead intact, Denmark proceeded to go down on her with the passion of a true lover.  The act was eagerly reciprocated, and she did not hesitate to swallow, indicating that this was not their first time. </em>
</p><p>Blood slammed into America's face as he remembered seeing them sneak away in Chicago to do this very thing.  He had never seen two people so clearly desperate for each other as they were.</p><p>And then, he saw something that made his heart stop.</p><p>
  <em>Sweden gently rubbing ashes into the fresh tattoo cuts he had made in Washington's arm, dyeing them black; gently kissing her bare shoulder blade, freshly inked.  Washington turning to face him, the expression they shared a clear indication of a terrible secret between them:  The two of them kissing in secret in the shadows of her rooms.  Washington taking him into her mouth as he gasped in relief.  Sweden between her legs, hands gently holding her thighs apart as he gave her oral pleasure in return.  Her own hands softly stroking his hair as she sighed in satisfaction.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then the two of them repeating the act in the secrecy of Finland's hidden den; Sweden looking anything but homosexual as he savored the sweetness of her sex; Washington gazing alluringly up at him as she swallowed his seed.</em>
</p><p>"What the <em>fuck?!"  </em>America whispered.</p><p>"She is the only woman he has touched in such passion," France murmured.  "There will never be another."</p><p>America shook his head, painfully confused.  "But <em>he's</em>...and Katrina is...<em>Denmark</em> wouldn't..."</p><p>France gave him a wise look.  "Perhaps Katrina has been honest with her love and Danemark is aware," he suggested gently.  "You will see.  Watch."</p><p>
  <em>Both girls standing at attention at Bletchley Park as the Major, absolutely incensed, shouted at them in such colorful language that they couldn't help but burst out laughing.</em>
</p><p>"That was the last time either of them laughed," France said softly.</p><p>America was silent.</p><p><em>Oregon with Ruitenbeek on the plane; making her jump; dropping onto the spire of the church.  Oregon watching in horrified despair as most of the others in her troop were killed</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Washington standing at the bow of the landing craft at Canada's side as the front dropped down, their hands locking together.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oregon and Ruitenbeek escaping; Oregon killing the Germans at Fermes; doing emergency surgery on Ruitenbeek's arm and screaming at him to not be such a girl.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Washington and Canada encountering Prussia; Washington easily getting out of the knots Prussia had tied around her wrists; Prussia listening to her outside the truck with a sinister smile, completely aware of this.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Canada freeing the doomed men at Roumare.  Washington forcing him to leave her behind with Prussia.</em>
</p><p>Here France cleared his throat and tried to shut the book, but it wouldn't close.  So he tried taking it from America's grasp instead, but he couldn't get it to budge.  He did not want his son to see Prussia's assault upon Washington.  Desperate, he attempted one more tack.  "Mon ami, there is nothing more that you need to see."</p><p>But he couldn't stop watching, and so he saw with horror what Prussia had done to her in those woods; he saw how she had fought hard against him and had lost anyways; saw how her body reacted to Prussia's and saw how Prussia's reacted to hers.  America saw the blood running down to the earth beneath them as Prussia broke her open.  In that moment she had shuddered deeply and the psycho-sexual bond between them was born.  Prussia had let her go, but only physically.  She had gone to Helsinki, seeking comfort from her isä and finding it with Sweden; America watched, stunned, as his papa took Washington into the dark shadows of her and Denmark's tree, taking her as a man takes a woman.</p><p>"Oh my God," America whispered.</p><p>Then, Washington going back to confront Prussia by herself, without telling anyone but Oregon.  America saw the continued psychological and sexual torture he subjected her to and how it increased in brutality; because he had been her first, she neither could nor would resist him; he saw how Prussia gradually broke her down to truly want him: at the end, it was not rape at all.  Even his brother, the by-the-rules Germany, had finally given in to baser desires and had forced himself upon her twice before he helped her escape, and the second time could easily be mistaken for consenting lovers.  America was more surprised by this because although Prussia had not claimed her at that point it was clear that he was going to.  But after Germany had coerced her into oral sex, which she also seemed to enjoy, she was actually eager to lie with him.  She had kissed him and had allowed him to finish inside of her, and to America's horror had even taunted him, teasing him to take her out from under his brother.  And Germany nearly had.</p><p>The final scene between Washington and Prussia in the bedchamber on the night of the fire, so pornographic that it made him blush.  She had finally told Prussia what he had wanted to hear her say to him for so long:  <em>I love you, Gilbert. </em></p><p>Now America wondered:  Had she been lying, or did she <em>really</em> love him, even after all he had done?  All her actions that night pointed to love, not hate.</p><p>What would need to be done to heal her?</p><p>Denmark had been the first to come to her side at the hospital, even after learning what Prussia had done to her.  Even after knowing what she had shared with his bror.  The Dane loved her still and obviously always would.</p><p>America had not wanted to know any of it.</p><p>"Mon fils, I am sorry," France said softly.</p><p>He couldn't speak.  Couldn't find the strength to force his vocal cords to vibrate together and form the sounds to make the words that ever resonated in his soul.  For Washington.</p><p>
  <em>I only wanted you to love me.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. København/Denmark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The consequences of Prussia's actions are discovered.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Denmark stood in silence in the hushed room, staring down at the still-sleeping Washington.  Not once during the entire journey had she even stirred, which Norge found even more alarming than Denmark had expected.  He had left immediately to fetch their own doctor, a look of dread on his usually calm face.</p><p>The door finally opened and the doctor entered the room carrying a large case.  Norge came in after him, holding a strange looking tool that reminded Denmark of a miniature metal detector.  As the doctor set everything up, Norge glared at Denmark across the bed, and Denmark frowned, confused.  Was Norge angry with him for bringing her here?  But he had <em>agreed</em> to it.  Had even made arrangements for them to stay at the hospital with her, knowing Denmark would not leave her side.<br/><br/>The doctor motioned the two nations aside, then looked at them out of the tops of his eyes.  "You are both close to her?  Will you be comfortable remaining in the room?  I'll be needing to speak to you," he said.<br/><br/>"Yes, we're her family," Denmark said, firmly.  Norge raised an eyebrow, but did not object.  It was true, after all.  Washington had known them intimately since she was a little one, as Pacific Russia.<br/><br/>The doctor hummed and began to lift Washington's gown up.  His eyebrows shot up at the sight of her tattoos, and he looked quickly at the Nordics, who merely shrugged.  He cleared his throat and continued.  "Now, this is harmless to her, but it's new technology and still very dangerous for humans, which is a shame," he said, bringing his little paddle to Washington's middle.  He listened intently, watching the sensors draw a picture.<br/><br/>Norge stared at Washington’s exposed belly, seeing something about it that was different enough to cause alarm.  Denmark thought she looked a little thicker than before.  A little thicker, but not necessarily fatter.  "What is that?" he demanded. "What are you doing?"<br/><br/>"Mhmm," the doctor muttered.  "Just as I thought.  Gentlemen, which one of you is responsible for this young lady?"<br/><br/>"I am," Denmark said, and flinched when Norge's glare became knives.<br/><br/>The doctor straightened and looked Denmark in the eyes.  "Well then, I suggest you get to work, because this American state is pregnant.  There are three little ones and they are growing fast."<br/><br/>Norge's eyes tore into Denmark, who felt as though a balloon had popped in his head.  His ears rang.  <em>Prussia,</em> he thought, reeling.  Prussia had done this to her.  She had told him that Prussia had raped her, which had been the most horrible thing he'd ever had to learn, and now <em>this</em>.<br/><br/>Norge hissed at him in rage.  "You just <em>couldn't</em> wait, could you?  Just <em>had</em> to get into her, didn't you?  You idiot, Amerika will <em>never</em> forgive you for this!  What the hell were you <em>thinking? </em> Oh," he added, bitterly, "that's right, you <em>weren't."</em> <br/><br/>Denmark bowed his head and forced himself to breathe.  Counted the eyelashes resting on Washington's cheeks.  Remembered kissing those closed eyelids on the wharf at Southampton the night before the world nearly ended.  "Norge," he said in a low voice.  "It wasn't me.  But I wish it was."<br/><br/>"And he <em>trusted</em> you to--what?"  Norge broke off and stared at him.  "It wasn't?  Well, obviously it was <em>somebody</em>.  Land personifications cannot spawn like citizen personifications.  You know that as well as I do."  He frowned.  “Mathias, that mark is <em>very</em> similar to yours.  You can see how I thought that it was.”<br/><br/>He didn't reply.<br/><br/>"Hvem?"  Norge asked, hesitantly.<br/><br/>Denmark nodded towards Washington.  "Look closely at the mark.  Only one other nation besides me has canines that are fangs."<br/><br/>Norge's eyes closed and he shuddered.  Denmark wanted to punch a hole through the wall and yank out all the wires and pipes.<br/><br/>"Does she know?"  Norge asked, as the doctor breezed back into the room.<br/><br/>"Oh, most assuredly," the doctor replied.  “The little ones are growing at an accelerated rate, so physically they are the size of second-trimester fetuses.  She is just at eight weeks now, but these little ones are a few weeks ahead of her.”  He gathered his equipment together.  “I must congratulate you, hr. Køhler.  Triplet offspring are quite rare and very impressive.  And <em>always</em> intentional," he added, winking.  "I hope America is ready for this!"  Chuckling, he left the room, and Denmark felt his entire body begin to shake.<br/><br/>"I'm going to <em>kill</em> him."<br/><br/>"Bror," Norge whispered.<br/><br/>He looked up.<br/><br/>Norge was crying.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Copenhagen/America</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>America is an unintentional witness.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>America wished Washington would stay in one place long enough for him to catch up with her.  It was getting down to the wire with Japan, and he needed to go over a few things with her before he was to leave on his final mission.  It was like chasing tornadoes.  She seemed to be strenuously avoiding him and everyone else, even Denmark.  But this morning Finland had told him that she had phoned him and had informed him she was coming to see him, and when she'd gotten there she made it quick, staying just long enough for him to see that she was all right.</p><p>"But there is something wrong with her, Amerikka," Finland warned him.  "I do not know exactly what it is, but she would not let me touch her.  She wouldn't even come near enough to give me a hug.  She has <em>never</em> done that before, Alfred," he added, and America could hear the grief in his voice.  "If you see her at all, you have to find out what is going on."</p><p>He had promised to try, but he honestly didn't expect to have much luck, so when he nearly ran right into her as he arrived at Denmark's place, he almost pissed himself.  But then he saw the look on their faces as they discussed something and he knew there was something terrible going on.</p><p>"You <em>have</em> to do it," Washington was saying, sounding exhausted.  She stood facing him, holding something in her hands like an offering.  "I don't <em>want</em> anyone else.  I don't <em>trust</em> anyone else.  <em>Please</em>, Mathias."</p><p>America held his breath, willing them to move so that he could see what she had in her hands.  Whatever it was, Denmark wanted <em>no</em> part of it.  When she took a step towards him, he shrank away, staring at the thing in her hands.</p><p>"I'll take responsibility for you," he insisted.  "Then they would be mine."</p><p>"It doesn't work that way and you <em>know</em> it," she said, taking another step towards him.  This time he did not back away.  He cradled her elbows in his hands, their foreheads touching. </p><p>"I <em>cannot,"</em> she went on, "bear Prussia's offspring."</p><p>It was as if a giant, ice-cold pair of hands grasped him at the waist and squeezed.  America bent over in agony, embracing himself.  <em>No,</em> oh dear fucking God <em>no.</em></p><p>"How <em>could</em> you?" he whispered.  "How could you <em>do</em> that to her?"</p><p>But Prussia was in a cell in Breslau, and couldn't answer him.</p><p>"Elskede," Denmark said, finally taking the thing from her, "I love you.  I don't want to hurt you."</p><p><em>A gun</em>.</p><p>"You could <em>never</em> hurt me," she said, softly.  "Because I love <em>you."</em></p><p><em>Oh God please no,</em> America thought desperately.  <em>Don't do what I think you are going to do. </em></p><p>"I love you," she repeated softly, as Denmark raised the gun to her forehead.  "Jeg elsker dig."</p><p>The sound of the gunshot was drowned out completely by Denmark's scream.</p><p>Nothing, absolutely <em>nothing,</em> could have prepared America for the sight of Washington's lifeless body in Denmark's arms, her wide grey eyes staring with dreadful serenity into eternity; the screaming Dane falling to his knees with her.  He threw back his head and roared at the sky; Norway and Sweden were there suddenly, trying to separate them.  Norway attempted to comfort him as Sweden tried to take Washington's body out of his grasp, and America winced as Denmark turned to his brother and head-butted him.  They both fell away from him as he jealously clutched her to him.</p><p>America couldn't bear it.</p><p>He had to move.  He had to take her from him.  America knew Washington would survive, but she would still need care.  The <em>thing</em> inside her (he <em>could</em> not, and <em>would</em> not, refer to it as a baby) would have to be removed.  Almost without realizing it, he had reached them.</p><p>"Den," he began, reaching out and gathering Washington in his hands.  For a moment Denmark's grip on her tightened, and America steeled himself for a blow that could very well be painful.  Except <em>nothing</em> could hurt more than this.  "I have to take her away now, Mathias.  Let go--let her go."</p><p>Suddenly the fight went out of Denmark and he released her, staring with huge, haunted eyes at him.</p><p>"She <em>told</em> me to do it," he whispered.  "I couldn't refuse her."</p><p>"Of <em>course</em> you couldn't," America said, reassuringly.  "She was <em>right</em> to trust you.  She'll be fine.  She'll be back before you know it.  I <em>promise."</em></p><p>It took several days, but she did awaken, and both America and Denmark were there when she did.  The night before had passed long and unbearable, and this morning was no better.  America couldn't sit at her bedside staring into her still, almost serene, face.  Norway had said that he erased as much of the memories of what Prussia had done as he could, but he couldn't be sure that it would work.  Her body would always bear the scars of it, so the memories couldn't be completely erased.  What would happen when she woke up?  Would she remember <em>anything? </em> Would she remember <em>all</em> of it?</p><p>He met Denmark coming down the hall.</p><p>"Kate is still sleeping," he said.</p><p>"I know," Denmark replied.  "But she's going to wake up soon."</p><p>America blinked at him in astonishment.  "How do you know that?" he wondered.  For the first time in nearly a week, Denmark smiled.</p><p>"Here," he replied, tapping his left temple.  "It's quite different than what I expected.  It's like electricity," he explained.  "Not like electric shocks, but like a current.  It's warm."</p><p>"She <em>loves</em> you," America said, feeling wonder at this.  "She's never quite loved any of us.  You're very lucky."</p><p>Denmark put his arm around him.  "Oh, I'm sure she loves you."</p><p>"No," America said, firmly.  "She tolerates me.  <em>Barely. </em> She <em>lets</em> me keep her.  If she wanted to, she would leave.  I <em>know</em> this."</p><p>"She wouldn't leave," Denmark insisted.  "Oregon needs her."</p><p>America felt a tiny smile tug the corner of his mouth up.  "She would take Oregon with her."  He turned and saw Finland approaching them.</p><p>"I'm going to talk to her for a minute," Washington's papa said.  "I hope you don't mind."  He disappeared into the room without waiting for either of them to answer. </p><p>It amazed both America and Denmark just how protective Finland still was of Washington.  He had not left her side for a moment since arriving in København, except for the half hour that he spent calming Russia down.   </p><p>America sighed.  Washington really had <em>no</em> idea just how many truly cared about her, he thought.  Oregon and Idaho both refused to return to the United States until she awakened.  Canada had delayed going to the Netherlands as long as he could.  Only after Oregon reminded him that Washington would expect him to keep his promises did he leave to help his new friends.  South Italy had sent a bottle of wine.  Even that Commie bastard had telephoned every day, and had immediately come to see her after getting the true story from Finland.  When he saw his beloved дочь lying still and silent in the hospital bed, he had broken down in Finland's arms.  He had almost knocked Denmark into next week, but Finland had stopped him.  Now Russia had some <em>very</em> interesting plans for Prussia. </p><p>Suddenly Denmark's body straightened, and he stood up abruptly as Finland's voice rose, and a low voice, also speaking Finnish, answered.  A split second later Finland stuck his head out of the door.  "Get in here," he exclaimed.  "She's going to wake up."</p><p>They rushed the room, and America stopped at the foot of the bed as Denmark fell to his knees at her side, putting his head on her stomach.  Her eyes were still closed, but her hands moved to curl into his hair. </p><p>"Min elskede," she murmured as she opened her eyes.</p><p>"Jeg er ked af at jeg har skudt dig," he said into her belly.  She stroked his hair.</p><p>"Nej, du var nødt til at gøre det."  Her eyes rested on America, still standing at the foot of the bed.  "Hey Pop."</p><p>America cleared his throat, but it still felt as if something blocked it.  It tickled him as always to hear Washington rattle off in Danish just as easily as she did in English, if not easier.  “Hey, Kate.”</p><p>As if suddenly realising that they were not alone in the room, Denmark quickly got to his feet and stepped back respectfully to allow America to come closer.  America noticed that he did not let go of Washington's hand until the last minute.   </p><p>"Let's leave them to it, Mathias," Finland said, firmly, when Denmark lingered at the door.  "Alfred, we will be back in a little while."  When Denmark resisted, he pulled.  "Come on."</p><p>Washington looked at America in silence for a few minutes.  Then she said, "You've got the Philippines back.  And Australia is secure.  It's time to finish this, isn't it?"</p><p>"Yes," America began, feeling his belly trembling.  The way she stared into his eyes left him <em>no</em> doubt what she was waiting to say to him.  He closed his eyes.  "Katrina."</p><p>"Without my help you wouldn't have them," she insisted.  "They're as much mine as they are yours.  Maybe <em>more</em> mine than yours," she added.  "I think it's only fair that you allow me to finish this.  That yellow bastard tried to come ashore on my lands."</p><p>He opened his eyes and stared at her.  She was looking at him with those freakish enormous eyes of hers, and the emptiness in them made his skin crawl.</p><p>"Alfred, if you <em>don't</em> let me do this, then <em>fuck</em> you.  I'll leave, and you'll see that it would have been easier if you had only listened to me."</p><p>He sighed deeply.  "Katrina, I don't think that I need to tell you that our reasons for wanting to use this weapon are <em>very</em> different."</p><p>She scoffed.  "Don't kid yourself," she snapped.  "You know the truth.  You want to hurt him as much as <em>I</em> do."</p><p><em>"No,"</em> he insisted.  "I'm trying to <em>save</em> lives, Katrina.  You know that he absolutely <em>will</em> not stop until there are <em>no</em> men left!  And I <em>don't</em> want to drag this war on for <em>another</em> five fucking years."</p><p>Her teeth clenched.  "If you don't let me do this, I'll fucking <em>leave</em>.  <em>Try</em> me, Alfred."  She sat straight up and pointed at him.  "You <em>know</em> that I can do this!  C'mon, Pop, you're fucking <em>exhausted!</em>  Give me the mission," she demanded.  He sighed.</p><p>"All right, look," he said.  "I'll talk to Mr Truman about it.  <em>If</em>--and <em>only</em> if--he gives the green light, then we can talk about it."  She sat back and smirked in satisfaction, and he shuddered.  At no other point in her life had it been more obvious that she was truly Russia's offspring.  Her treachery had become the stuff of legend; not against her own people but against Germany and Prussia--she had taken them by the throats and had dragged them through shattered glass after fooling them in the most intimate of ways.  </p><p>He was quite relieved that she would not remember it, because <em>this</em> was bad enough.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Kööpenhamina/Finland</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Finland makes a horrifying confession to Denmark regarding Washington.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Tino, I love her so much,” Denmark said over coffee and cake.   </p><p>“I know, Mathias,” Finland said reassuringly.  “She loves you too.  She <em>always</em> has.”  He smiled and shook his head.  “Seeing the two of you sleeping in each other's arms, watching you teach her knots, braiding her hair, you dancing with her when she became a state--<em>all</em> those things, every single <em>one</em> of them, pointed to you one day claiming her.  Norge was right.”  He paused and then added,  “She told me right after she first met you that she had found her only.  I knew that she meant you.”</p><p>Denmark's eyes smarted with tears.  “I <em>should</em> have taken her the night before, Tino.  I <em>knew</em> it, but I promised you.”</p><p>Finland’s gaze was warm.  “Mathias, if you had done that, she would have been carrying your little ones when Prussia attacked her,” he pointed out.  “She may have been forced to miscarry.”</p><p>Shuddering, Denmark shook his head.  “That fucking cruel <em>bastard</em>.  She told me he...she told me that he used his sword and dagger to...to cut her sometimes while he was...raping her.”  His voice dropping to a whisper, he looked at Finland with torment in his eyes.  “How could he <em>do</em> that to her?”  He noticed that now Fin wouldn't look at him.  "Tino?  Did you <em>know</em> about that?"</p><p>Finland sighed deeply.  "I meant never to tell you, because Amerikka asked me not to on her behalf.  She began hurting herself when we lost her, Mathias.  She would break pottery or glass and use the shards to cut herself until she bled entire pints.  Amerikka told me that he had to keep all the knives in his house locked away, but she learned how to pick locks, didn't she?"  He closed his eyes and shook his head sadly.  "It became a way for her to cope."</p><p>"How could I not have <em>known?"</em>  Denmark's eyes went from tormented to haunted.  "All the <em>time</em> I spent with her!  How did she manage to <em>hide</em> it from me?"</p><p>"Ivan knew," Finland said, his eyes full of sorrow.  "He knew all along; he does the same.  He tried to warn Amerikka that it hadn't stopped, but Amerikka believed her when she swore that she was fine.  And she is like her father; she is a master of deception."  He smiled crookedly.  "When she is with you she has no <em>need</em> to harm herself."</p><p>Denmark now looked thoroughly miserable.  "That brings me absolutely <em>no</em> comfort," he declared.  "I can't be <em>with</em> her all the time.  Amerika won't <em>allow</em> me to do what I want and marry her.  You know the States are off limits for that."</p><p>Finland hummed softly and sipped his coffee.  "That <em>is</em> true, but you must remember, things are happening now that are shaping the future, and Washington did things over the past four years that point squarely in the direction of--"  He broke off and cleared his throat, catching sight of someone over Denmark's shoulder.  "What is it?"</p><p>"I <em>really</em> don't mean to interrupt," Amerikka began, "but I need to ask you something."  He pulled up a chair and sat down.  For a moment he stared at the table and then he looked up, and Finland was struck by the youthful fear on his face.  "Is it <em>obvious</em>, isä?" he asked, his voice barely audible.  "Can everyone <em>else</em> see that she never wanted to be part of the family?"</p><p>"Alfred, she fought fiercely for the Allies," Finland began, but he knew that Amerikka was right to worry.  "She has <em>never</em> pretended to want to belong.  We understand.  It is not always a choice."</p><p>Amerikka laughed humorlessly.  "I'm <em>losing</em> her, isä.  I began losing her the minute she let go of Ivan's hand that day I took her from you."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"She has a form of power that I <em>don't,"</em> Amerikka insisted.  "The bombs would <em>never</em> have been possible if she hadn't agreed to develop the components.  And she's threatened to leave if I don't let her d...deliver them."</p><p>Finland pressed his lips together, concerned.  Denmark, however, waved his hand dismissively.</p><p>"She's threatened to leave before," he said.  "She won't do it.  She <em>couldn't."</em></p><p>Amerikka leaned forwards, his eyes dark.  "You don't understand," he said.  "She's the one who <em>can</em> do it, and she <em>will</em>.  It's only a matter of time before she realises it.  And if she had made the choice to have those little ones, I would have been <em>fucked</em>.  She's stronger than she thinks, and if she has offspring she's going to figure it out."  He put his head in his hands.  "She doesn't <em>need</em> me anymore.  Maybe she never did."  He looked up, and he was clearly distraught.  "This has <em>never</em> happened before.  During the...during the Civil War I knew that the Confederacy wouldn't be able to survive without me or the others, but Washington is <em>completely</em> self-sufficient.  And she's starting to realise it."</p><p>Sighing, Finland shook his head.  "Poikani, you <em>must</em> remember that she really didn't <em>need</em> much help to grow.  She has <em>always</em> been strong.  She is as much my daughter as Ivan's, and I <em>also</em> loathed subjugation."  He gave Denmark a reassuring look.  "I know not all rulers mean to be cruel, but sometimes that matters not."  He sat back.  "Well, there are two bombs, are there not?  Let her drop one.  You can drop the other."</p><p>"I don't want to even allow <em>that,"</em> Amerikka insisted.  "She hates Japan and <em>wants</em> to hurt him.  And I <em>don't. </em> I'm trying to <em>save</em> lives.  She could drop the damn thing on Tokyo and wipe out <em>millions."</em></p><p>"She will do as you say," Finland said firmly.  "I will make <em>sure</em> of it."</p><p>Amerikka shook his head.  "It's not <em>enough</em> to get her to promise, isä.  She is treacherous and you both <em>know</em> it.  She nearly killed Germany when she removed his blackened heart.  If I hadn't been watching her she would have done.  She almost blew both Prussia and Germany to pieces--Austria, too, simply because he happened to be there.  Even though he had never hurt her, she didn't care.  She called it "collateral damage".  Look, this isn't the first time she's done something like this.  Maybe you don't know, but right after I... I got her from you, she starved out an entire settlement just to see how it would make her feel, and she felt <em>nothing</em>.  Then Seattle burned at least three times and she didn't bat an eyelash.  After the last fire I had trouble moving my left arm for a <em>month,</em> but do you think it bothered <em>her?</em>  Nope, it was as if <em>nothing</em> happened at all.  Isä, I don't know if I can bear to <em>let</em> her drop one of the bombs.  Someone will get hurt."</p><p>"She has <em>never</em> defied me, Alfred," Finland said gently.  "She will do her duty and let it go."</p><p>"Hey, I don't get it," Denmark said.  "I <em>completely</em> understand why she hates the German brothers, but why <em>Japan?</em>"</p><p>"Simple," Finland shrugged.  "She <em>didn't,</em> until fairly recently.  He went up against Ivan and caused a great deal of discomfort during the last few years before the Revolution.  Ivan wasn't hurt then, but the situation didn't help in what happened with the royal family."  He inclined his head.  "That's why this particular hatred is so strong.  It's new and it hurts in a more personal way, for Ivan loved the royal family very much."</p><p>Amerikka sighed.  "If I <em>don't</em> let her do it she'll resent me," he admitted.  "I <em>have</em> to do it.  She's even <em>more</em> insistent because of what happened to the Indianapolis.  You know she sailed with them before the invasion."</p><p>"Yes," Finland said sadly, "it was horrible, what happened.  I am just glad that she was not on board that day."</p><p>"Oh, yeah," Denmark said.  "That reminds me.  Someone's looking for her.  Amerika, do you know a sailor named Arne Rasmussen?" he wondered.  "I guess he was one of her crewmates on that ship and he was one of the few survivors.  He's been in hospital in the Philippines since it happened, but he's recovered from it and he wants to see her."  He smirked.  "Don't look so surprised.  He's Danish, after all.  Of <em>course</em> he would ask me for help."</p><p>Finland shook his head.  "I can only <em>imagine</em> the trouble those two would have gotten into," he said, wistfully, and he was relieved when Amerikka smiled at last.</p><p>"Yeah, Katie's a troublemaker, no thanks to the likes of you," he said, nudging Denmark, who had the audacity to look offended.</p><p>"Hey, everyone blames me, but it's really Fin who's the bad influence," he insisted, and Finland couldn't help but chuckle.</p><p>"Well, you've found me out," he said.  "All right.  Who wants to be the one to tell Washington that she gets to fly to Japan?"</p><p>"Wait," Amerikka began, but Denmark was already tearing towards the stairs.  Amerikka looked at Finland and frowned.</p><p>"I still haven't talked to my boss about that," he insisted, but Finland waved his hand dismissively.</p><p>"To hell with him," he said, in a very Washington-like manner.  "I have every confidence that my daughter will be successful, and you know it as well, Alfred," he added, giving Amerikka a chilling smile.  "Let it happen, pieni.  She will not disappoint you."</p><p>Amerikka shook his head.  "It's not that I think she's going to <em>disappoint</em> me," he insisted.  "It's the <em>opposite</em>.  And," he added, "what if it gives the <em>others</em> ideas?"</p><p>Finland laughed gaily.  "I would not worry about the rest of them, Alfred," he said.  "They love you and are sworn to you.  Maybe Katriina crossed her fingers when she swore to remain loyal to you, but none of the others did.  Believe me, the world has been watching.  You'll be all right.  After all, this will solidify it."</p><p>"Huh?"  Amerikka looked confused.  Finland smiled indulgently.</p><p>"Why, your status as the superpower," he said.  "Don't tell me you didn't know.  Why do you <em>think</em> Ivan has been so agitated by you lately?  He knows you have those bombs; he doesn't know what they can <em>do</em> yet, <em>or</em> how many you might have up your sleeve.  Which is something we are <em>all</em> concerned about," he added, frowning.  "Amerikka...Alfred, you are a good decent sort.  Don't become the monster."  He  patted Amerikka's shoulder and could feel the strength thrumming through the other's body.  </p><p>The monster was close, and it was waiting to be  born.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Tinian/Washington</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The end of the war, but not the end.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The moonlight glinted serenely off the calm ocean, and Washington stood facing it, breathing in the familiar taste of home and land as it came to her from afar.  </p><p>It was almost over.</p><p>Three days ago, she and her siblings had watched in anticipation--well, for <em>her</em> it had been anticipation, but for Oregon it had been fear and then anguish--as America flew over the port city of Hiroshima and deposited the first of the gifts for Japan.  When they had seen the explosion, she had leapt into the air and cheered, along with several of the servicemen who were there, but Oregon had sat back and stared in numb disbelief.  Washington looked over at her papa and saw the dawning horror on his face, but it quickly became resolute before he noticed her looking at him and he made his face carefully neutral.  But he could not fool her.  As she made her way over to him, America's officers gave her a wide berth, and she could sense the suspicion in them.  She sighed.  She would have to be careful, she thought.  One false look and they'd accuse her of being a Communist sympathiser.</p><p>Not that she wasn't tempted.</p><p>"Папа, привет," she murmured and he quickly guided her out of earshot of the others.  She could feel them staring.  "I go up in a few days, if we hear nothing from Japan."</p><p>"Be careful, дочь," he replied.  "They are watching you.  He knows now that you are growing stronger than the others, Katrina.  You <em>must</em> keep suspicion away from you.  Hide your true face.  Do <em>not</em> let them see your strengths.  Show only your vulnerability so he thinks that you will not hurt him."</p><p>She closed her eyes and let his calming influence wash over her.  "I wish he had never come to me," she murmured.  "But he did."</p><p>His jaw tightened.  "If he succeeds it is because of <em>you</em>, дочь.  Do <em>not</em> allow him to forget that."</p><p>"Vraginskaya," a voice barked now, and her eyes flew open.  Angrily, she whipped around sharply and corrected the officer.</p><p>"Braginskaya," she snapped.  "Say it correctly or get the fuck off my watch."  She smiled to herself as the upstart officer recoiled in surprise.  He struggled to regain his composure and she waited patiently.  He straightened and looked into her eyes briefly, but he could not maintain eye contact.  "Captain Jones wishes to remind you that Tokyo is <em>not</em> the target."</p><p>Infuriated, she turned away to see America watching her from the hangar.  "Damn you, Alfred," she mouthed.  The night before, he had found her after dinner and they had nearly come to blows.  He had seen her intentions as clearly as day, so she <em>knew</em> that he must have been talking to Finland.</p><p>"Katrina, if you drop that payload on <em>anything</em> other than your target I will <em>not</em> hesitate to have you shot down where you are," he had said.</p><p>Angrily she had bared her teeth in a growl.  "What business is it of <em>yours</em> what I do with my own things?" she hissed.  "You're just pissed because <em>you</em> didn't have the guts to do it <em>yourself!"</em></p><p><em>"Katrina Braginskaya! </em> That payload is the property of the United States, of which <em>you</em> are <em>also</em> a part, like it or not," America had thundered.  She had violently shrugged him off and then actually smacked his hand off her arm when he tried to calm her down.</p><p>"Don't <em>touch</em> me," she snapped.  They stared at each other, and America had finally blinked.  At this point, she conceded.  "All <em>right</em>, as you fucking say.  The payload goes to Kokura."  Then she had added,  "Don't <em>fucking</em> threaten me again, Alfred.  You <em>don't</em> want to find out what happens when you piss me off."</p><p>When he thought she wasn't looking, he flexed the hand she had struck, wincing slightly, so she knew that he had felt it.</p><p>Good.</p><p>She quickly climbed up into the cockpit of the Bockscar, staring at America in silence.  He looked extremely nervous, but he had no reason to be.  She would keep her promise.  She would do her job and wash her hands of the war.  As she and her co-pilot strapped in, the rest of the crew loaded up and the flight was cleared for takeoff.  One by one the retinue of planes took to the sky:  In front was the <em>Enola Gay,</em> acting as weather recon along with the <em>Laggin' Dragon;</em> Washington wasn't sure but she thought perhaps Captain Marquardt might have picked the wrong week to quit drinking.  Behind the <em>Bockscar</em> was the <em>Great Artiste</em>, and bringing up the rear was <em>Big Stink</em>.  As she left the island of Tinian Washington was suddenly reminded of her first time flying over the open sea, just after she came of age.  Denmark had gotten the bright idea to take her up in one of his planes, intending to show off; she had ended up taking the controls after it became apparent to her that he didn't think she could do it.  He had cried the entire time she was over the sea, begging her to slow down and stop buzzing the water.  She didn't stop, instead asking him if he still thought she was incapable.  He had closed his eyes and screamed.</p><p><em>"Nej! Nej!</em>  Jesus <em>Christ,</em> Kate, I'm <em>sorry!"</em></p><p>She smiled to herself.  Her co-pilot, Sweeney, noticed and flinched.  They did not speak.  It was an accepted fact that if anything went awry on the mission, there were cyanide capsules in Washington's pocket.  The other pilot also had one; besides her, he knew the most about the makeup of the bomb.  But Washington already <em>knew</em> that nothing would go awry.  She did not <em>do</em> "awry".  </p><p>It was a beautiful day for a bomb run, but she was either early or the rest of the unit had gotten lost; patiently she circled around to come in again, wondering where the fuck <em>Big Stink</em> was.  She dared not try to raise him on the radio.  You never knew who could be lurking on the bandwidths.</p><p>As they approached their target city of Kokura for the third time Sweeney received confirmation from the <em>Artiste</em> that there were increasing numbers of Jap fighters closing in on her position.  She would have to make for it now or risk being shot down.  To further complicate things, a fire had started down in the port, obscuring her target.  She would not be able to release the payload on a visual.</p><p>Washington sighed.  That meant the secondary target must be reached.  She was worried about the fuel pump; the extra distance meant that she would have enough useable fuel for only one landing pass.  She would be lucky if she made it to Okinawa with any fuel at all.  There was no other choice.  It had to be Nagasaki.</p><p>But there was another issue.  Big<em> Stink</em> <em>still</em> had not arrived at the rendezvous point, and Washington knew she was wasting precious time and fuel waiting for her.  They could not afford to move the payload to another plane, as it was live; now dangerously low on fuel, she finally had to make the decision to continue to Nagasaki without <em>Big Stink</em>.</p><p>As she made her final approach over the city, time seemed to slow down.  In her bones she could feel the lingering effects of the first bomb deep within the earth.  It was a curious sensation, one she had never before felt.  But she had no time to dwell on it, because she had arrived at the terminal and it was go time.</p><p><em>Fuck you, Japan,</em> she thought as the bombardier released the payload.  <em>Little Boy has got a big brother, and his name is ...Fat Man.</em></p><p>Then, in the back of her mind, a cheer went up:</p><p>
  <em>Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!  Utter destruction!</em>
</p><p>Even at their altitude, the shockwave rattled their teeth.  Though later Sweeney would say that he heard nothing, for her, it was the opposite.  From deep within the earth, even though she was far above it there came an agonized cracking; a groaning sound filled her bones with the deep ache of dying matter.  It was as if the Earth <em>itself</em> were protesting this new kind of horror.  Never before had <em>anything</em> affected her in this way.  As the very earth shattered below her she could feel every burst of deadly energy.  And she understood at <em>once</em> that here was at last a weapon that would end the world and all life on and in it.</p><p>Washington kept her eyes on the fuel gauge, feeling the plane going into what could be a stall.  Sweeney's hands tightened nearly imperceptibly on his harness.</p><p>"I'm going to lose that Number Two engine," she said calmly.  "Hold on."  She increased her speed, knowing that it was the only thing keeping them out of the stall.  Okinawa, just ahead, shifted as she straightened out.  As she repeatedly radioed in for landing clearance she saw heavy air traffic ahead.</p><p>There was no reply.  Sweeney's eyes widened as the ground came up to meet them.</p><p>"You're coming in too fast!"</p><p>"I <em>know,"</em> she ground out as she began to fire every single flare she had in order to alert the field of her intent to land.  As they hit the middle of the airstrip the number two engine finally blew out.  She hit the ground at 140 miles per hour, twenty above the speed limit to safely stop; they bounced back up at least eight meters and then slammed down <em>hard. </em> The impact sent the <em>Bockscar</em> in a slew to the left, directly towards a line of parked bombers.  But Washington had been taught to drive by South Italy, and the <em>Bockscar's</em> crew had been chosen for a reason; with ice water in their veins they all managed to keep everything under control.  The reverse propellers weren't quite enough to slow the aircraft, so by the time it stopped both Washington and Sweeney, her copilot, were standing on the brakes.  Flipping around hard to avoid running off the landing strip and also to avoid hitting the planes, the <em>Bockscar</em> finally came to a halt as another engine died out.  Washington sat absolutely still for a moment as the ground crew raced towards them.  And then she moved.  As soon as the hatch opened  she was out, shoving past the men surrounding the <em>Bockscar</em>.  She hit the ground running, spotting America's cowlicked head.  She <em>had</em> to tell him.  She had to tell him that they could <em>never</em> use those bombs again.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Flughafen-Tempelhof/Germany</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tormented by the past, Germany tries to move forward.  A surprise encounter threatens his efforts.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1972</p><p>It was supposed to be a joint show of advancements, and it was all in the name of the UN and NATO.  The nations' militaries had all grown exponentially within the past twenty-five years, and although Amerika was deep within the quagmire of Southeast Asia's rice paddies, he still managed to make an appearance; at least, for the air show.  He stood next to Germany, looking both exhausted and exhilarated.</p><p>"Check <em>this</em> out, Ludwig," he boasted.  "This will be the future in air-to-ground support, mark my words.  Bombers will be obsolete before long."</p><p>While Germany doubted that very much, he had to admit that the aircraft before them <em>was</em> quite impressive.  As the engine blasted to life he could actually <em>feel</em> the power of it vibrating through his bones.  </p><p>"See that muzzle?  That's a 30 millimeter GAU rotary cannon," America said gleefully.  "I don't have to tell <em>you</em> how powerful that is."</p><p>"Ich bin vom Himmel gefallen," Germany murmured.  "That is <em>enormous</em>, Amerika.  How did you get a gun that large to work in that aircraft?"</p><p>"Simple," America said smugly as the plane began to taxi.  "We designed the plane around it."</p><p>"Mein Gott," Germany swallowed, watching the beast take to the sky.  The very <em>air</em> seemed to shiver.  He looked around in surprise as the familiar presence of his brother approached.</p><p>Prussia--Rather, Kaliningrad as he was now officially known, eyed the plane with undisguised suspicion.  <em>"Who</em> is flying that monster?" he wondered, and Germany felt his heart skitter painfully in his chest.</p><p>But Amerika only smiled.  "Watch," he said.</p><p>Unable to look away, Germany did.</p><p>The plane streaked towards them at an impressive speed, nearing lower and lower altitudes as it approached a line of decommissioned tanks.  Then there was a sound that reminded Germany of hailstones on a metal roof, and the plane climbed sharply as the line of tanks bloomed into fireballs.  Then a deep tearing buzz ripped through the air and the crowd roared.  Germany felt his balls shrivel.  His mouth dry, he wished desperately for a beer.  "Was that--"</p><p>"Jesus Christus!" his Bruder crowed, giving Amerika a high five.  "That was <em>awesome!"</em></p><p>"Yep," Amerika said, puffing his chest out.  "That damn thing fires so fast it has to catch up with itself.  You're hearing the gun after it's hit the targets.  That's how you know she wasn't aiming for <em>you,"</em> he added, smirking.  "If you hear it, you're alive."</p><p>As the aircraft came in, Germany was seized by an insane desire to turn and run for his life.  But he was frozen to the spot as the plane landed and the cockpit opened.  The pilot scrambled out and jumped down, removing the helmet while jogging briskly towards them.</p><p><em>No.  Mother of God, no,</em> Germany thought, but it was <em>her, </em>and she was now stalking towards them and Prussia was backing away in alarm as her eyes ripped holes into them.  But Amerika put his arm around him and he couldn't escape.  Germany heard him whimpering.</p><p>"Guys, it's <em>fine,"</em> Amerika said.  "She doesn't remember."</p><p>Prussia swallowed audibly.  "Yes she <em>does</em>, Alfred," he hissed as Washington approached them.  She gave both Germany and Prussia a calculating look.  Then she gave Amerika a fey little smile.  "Hey Pop.  Well, you were right.  That was a rush," she remarked.  She looked briefly at the German brothers again.  "It's <em>really</em> too bad we didn't have this earlier.  You know?"  She narrowed her eyes and Germany felt himself shudder.  Prussia was <em>right</em>.  Amerika was a <em>fool</em> if he thought she had forgotten entirely.  She was not ignorant of the past and he had no idea just how much of it she remembered, but that didn't matter.  He did <em>not</em> want to be left alone with her.</p><p>Luckily for him <em>and</em> his brother, she was distracted by the loud voice of Denmark as he charged over to her, exclaiming about her little demonstration, and she went off with him, much to Germany's relief.  Prussia--<em>East Germany now</em>, he reminded himself--nearly burst into tears.  Amerika noticed their tension.</p><p>"Look, I seem to remember that you were <em>both</em> warned about her before you got yourselves into that mess with her," he informed them, "so I don't feel sorry for <em>either</em> of you.  I can't tell you what she remembers about it, but she's said <em>nothing</em> about it to <em>me</em>, so probably not much.  She's just suspicious, guys.  Don't make it worse for yourselves by telling on each other!"  </p><p>Later, he agreed to meet Amerika and Russland for drinks, only because Russland was allowing his brother to come with him.  When Amerika met him in the lobby of the hotel he admitted the reason for Russland's surprising generosity.</p><p>"Every time he sees Washington he can't help but be nicer," he said.  But Germany had always believed that the truth was actually much more sinister.  </p><p>He had absolutely no doubt that Amerika was right about Washington's influence over her papa, but the motivation behind it was not to be nice for her sake but to torture them with insidious little mind games that invariably involved her.  This entire air show was like that.  Amerika was heading back to Vietnam after this, but Washington, who had <em>strenuously</em> opposed the war there from the start, was staying to work on the American Air Force base at Rammstein.  When he had learned that, Germany had promptly gone into the garage behind his house and shot himself in the head, but of course he had not died and he met Amerika an hour later, with a headache.  He did <em>not</em> want her here.  Not for a <em>minute</em> did he believe that she had no ulterior motives.  Her middle <em>name</em> was ulterior motive.  She never did <em>anything</em> without one.</p><p>"Dude, why are you so <em>gloomy?"</em> Amerika brayed in his ear as they sat at the bar.  He  sighed and looked at their reflection in the mirror.  On Amerika's other side, Russland calmly drank from a bottle of vodka.  Beside him, Prussia cast terrified glances around the room; like him, Germany knew <em>just</em> whom he was worried about.</p><p>But she wasn't here.</p><p>"Ah, well, you know," Amerika said, looking a little embarrassed.  "She took off for Copenhagen."</p><p>"I told you what will happen if you continue to allow her to run around with crazy Denmark," Russland warned.  "You will wake up one morning and there will be little one."</p><p>Prussia flinched.  Amerika saw this and laughed nervously.</p><p>"Oh, come on, dude, she knows the rules about that," he protested.  Now Prussia scoffed loudly.</p><p>"And since <em>when</em>, Alfred, has that little menace <em>ever</em> had any regard for the rules?" he demanded.  Russland turned and scowled at him, causing him to shrink down into his seat.</p><p>"Shut up," Russland hissed.  "Katrina is <em>good</em> girl.  Too good for the likes of <em>you</em>.  Remember what I told you about that."</p><p>Germany could only imagine <em>what</em> Russland had said, and he shivered just knowing that more of the same was probably awaiting Prussia when he got back to Kaliningrad.  His brother had lost weight and was increasingly paranoid.  Every time he saw someone with red hair he visibly panicked.  Germany had seen it happen twice now.</p><p>A roar by the door announced the arrival of the awesome pilot of the monster plane.  Angrily Germany glared at Amerika.  "You said she was in <em>Copenhagen!"</em></p><p>Amerika coughed.  "Well, I guess she hasn't left yet."</p><p>"Oh <em>nein,"</em> Prussia whispered.  "She's coming this way."</p><p>She had Denmark by the hand and she looked excited about something, but not necessarily in a good way.  But instead of Amerika, she was making a beeline straight for Russland.  Desperately Prussia tried to leave his seat, but he was trapped by the crowd.  She stopped right in front of him.</p><p>"Папа, Toris just told me that he built his own stock car," she exclaimed.  "He wants to show it to us.  Can we race him?  Do you have a track?"</p><p>"You have a lead foot, дочь," Russland scolded.  "Нет, I forbid you to race.  You would not be careful enough.  You may watch Toris," he informed her.  Offended, Amerika spoke up.</p><p>"Hey, what's the big idea, telling Katrina what to do, Ivan?" he demanded.  Russland turned and stared at him with a chilling kind of innocence.</p><p>"She is <em>daughter,</em> Alfredka," he pointed out.  "Or have you forgotten?"</p><p>Prussia finally managed to free himself and made a break for the toilets.  Washington and Denmark disappeared into the crowd and Germany felt himself relax until his brother came back after quite a while.  He looked extremely shaken up.</p><p>"Ludwig," he muttered, "I need to talk to you."</p><p>Germany glanced quickly at Amerika and Russland, but by this time both of them were deep in their cups and paying no attention to them.  Over by the door, Denmark was engaged in a violent game of darts.  </p><p>Where was Washington?</p><p>"Just a minute," he said quickly, as his gorge began to rise.  As he started for the loo he heard Prussia shout at him to stop, but he had to vomit.  As he fell to his knees in front of the bowl he just barely missed spraying the floor with puke.  He staggered to the sink and rinsed his mouth, but before he could straighten up, a hand grabbed him by the hair and slammed him into the mirror.  Stunned, he tried vainly to free himself, but when Washington spoke into his ear he froze.</p><p><em>"That,"</em> she hissed, "is for <em>whatever</em> the hell it is that you did.  I dunno <em>exactly</em> what it was, but I <em>do</em> know that it was something fuckin <em>horrible,</em> and you're gonna want to make yourself pretty goddamn <em>scarce</em> when I find out what it was."  She released his head and he collapsed against the sink, his back to the shattered mirror.  They stared at each other in silence.</p><p>"I didn't leave any marks on your brother," she informed him, "and so when he sees your forehead it will remind him that I am <em>onto</em> you.  I don't know <em>what</em> you did," she repeated, "but <em>until</em> I find out, that cut will leave a scar."  Her eyes sharpened as she seemed to read his thoughts with no effort at all.  "Alfred will believe <em>whatever</em> I tell him went down in here.  If I say that you tripped, then you fucking better <em>well</em> have tripped over your <em>own</em> goddamn <em>feet</em>.  Is that <em>clear?" </em> When he didn't respond, she darted forward and seized him by the shirt, <em>hauling him into the air,</em> holy goddamn Christus how could she be this strong, he wondered desperately.</p><p><em>"Yes!"</em> he managed to say finally, and she let go.  She turned and started away, but then she glanced over her shoulder at him.</p><p>"Don't bother telling anyone about this," she said dismissively.  <em>"No one</em> will believe you."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Epilogue, Seattle/Washington + Prussia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The accounts are reconciled and debts are paid.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was <em>still</em> staring at him.</p><p>Prussia sat at the long table between America and Oregon, feeling those freakishly large eyes upon him.  Washington was staring at him.  Denmark and their son, who sat on either side of her, were engaged in conversation with Amerika and Oregon, respectively, and paid her no attention as she sat there, staring at him.  </p><p>Amerika had assured him that she did not remember what had happened to her.  It had been almost eighty years since the war ended and all these years she had been civil to him, if not a little standoffish.  But the way she stared at him from time to time, like she was doing now, unnerved him.  </p><p>Finally, he could not <em>stand</em> it any more.  "What?" he pleaded, and Denmark looked over at her curiously.  Then he glanced over at Prussia and silently raised an eyebrow.  He turned back to Amerika and Washington narrowed her eyes.</p><p>"I <em>don't</em> know," she replied, still eyeing him with suspicion. </p><p>"Elskede," Denmark said, rising, "Amerika and I are going out back for a bit."</p><p>"Kay," Washington said, not taking her eyes from Prussia.  Denmark rolled his eyes and kissed her, then followed America out the door.  The rest of the Nordics, who were visiting Seattle for Syttende Mai, decided that there was something they needed to do as well, and disappeared from the room with Oregon.  Then, Washington and Denmark's traitorous son decided that the cat needed a bath, and chased it upstairs. </p><p>Now he was alone with Washington. </p><p>"Gilbert," she said, quietly. </p><p>He closed his eyes.</p><p>"I know what happened, Gilbert," she continued.  "I'm not <em>thrilled</em> about it, but I don't really <em>remember</em> it.  And I'm <em>glad</em> I don't remember it.  I don't <em>want</em> to spend forever hating you."</p><p>"The land never quite forgets," he murmured. </p><p>"No," she said, "never quite.  I can't pretend that nothing <em>happened</em>, because something <em>did</em>, but I'm willing to move forward and try to get to know you.  Because you're Uncle Matt's friend.  And Ejnar thinks you're awesome.  I don't know how you <em>do</em> it," she added, aggrieved.  "How you can just get <em>over</em> shit.  Do you <em>really?</em>  Or do you just <em>pretend</em> to?  Do you really actually think of all those awful things late at night when it's just you?"</p><p>"I hurt you," he said, and she blinked.  Before she could respond, he continued.  "I hurt you and I am sorry for it.  I knew what I was doing was wrong and I did it anyways.  And I deserved <em>everything</em> that happened to me because of it."  He sat back and shook his head.  "No, there's no 'getting over' these things.  You just get used to the consequences.  The price I have had to pay I nearly couldn't afford.  Losing my brother for all those years nearly broke me.  Your father gave a new meaning to the word 'suffering'."  </p><p>"Good," she replied. </p><p>They stared at each other.  Prussia had to fight an urge to reach out and touch her face.  Even though she clearly loved Denmark, he still couldn't help wishing that things had been different.  If only he had been kind to her instead of cruel.  But she had never given him that chance.  Her longtime inability to use discretion in her rages had <em>also</em> robbed her of the ability to make rational decisions about revenge.  She knew only that he and Denmark had fought long ago, and Denmark had lost; therefore Prussia must pay. </p><p>"Mein name is Gilbert and I like birds," he blurted suddenly.  She studied him.</p><p>"I like cats," she said, after a moment.  He smiled.</p><p>"Your name," he prompted.  "You have to tell me your name."</p><p>She shrugged.  "My name is Katrina and I like cats," she said.</p><p>"Cats are <em>awesome,"</em> he said.  "Especially white ones."</p><p>"I like black ones," she replied.</p><p>He narrowed his eyes.  "Cherry pie."</p><p>"Huckleberry streusel."</p><p>"Skiing."</p><p>"Snowboarding."</p><p>"Strauss."</p><p>Her eyes widened.  "Bach!"</p><p>"Camping," he added.</p><p>"Where?" she demanded.</p><p>"Mountains."</p><p>"Beach," she replied.</p><p>Washington's cat suddenly streaked down the stairs, soaking wet and desperately trying to get away from Ejnar, who was hot on his heels. </p><p><em>"Bartholomew!"</em> he bellowed, chasing him beneath the table and all around the room.  They tore up the staircase again and a door slammed.  Washington turned back to face him again, looking pensive.</p><p>Prussia's heart ached.</p><p>"Mercedes Benz," she declared, and he smirked.</p><p>"Camaro," he informed her, and she laughed. </p><p>"Documentaries," she went on. </p><p>"What kind?" he pressed. </p><p>"Biographies of serial killers," she informed him.</p><p>He raised his glass in appreciation.  "Okay, but dead celebrities."</p><p>She nodded seriously.  "Spring."</p><p>"Winter," he countered. </p><p>"That time of morning just before dawn," she challenged. </p><p>He suddenly couldn't breathe.  "Midnight."  But it wasn't true.  His favorite time of the day <em>was</em> the time just before dawn.  And it was such a random thing to suggest that he knew that somehow, she knew that about him.  </p><p>Just as she knew all those <em>other</em> things about him.</p><p>"Green," she went on.</p><p>"Grey," he breathed, unable to look away.</p><p>"Football."</p><p>"Redheads," he said, and she froze.  But she didn't move to get away from him.  Instead she stood there, waiting. </p><p>"Katrina."</p><p>Somehow they'd got up from the table at some point and now stood at the fireplace, which still had to be used even in May.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he repeated. </p><p>"Kom<em> tilbage!"</em> Ejnar yelled, chasing Bartholomew out to the back deck.  Washington looked towards the stairs and sighed.</p><p>"Well, I'm sure the bath is an utter <em>ruin,"</em> she said.  "Wanna help me get the mess cleaned up?"</p><p>They worked in silence for a while until Prussia finally got all the cat hair out of the tub.  "It's a good thing he's not a white cat," he remarked, holding up a wee soggy sombrero of black hair.  "You would <em>never</em> see it all."</p><p>Washington suddenly began to giggle.  "Oh, <em>fuck</em>, this one time, I let him outside, even though he didn't have a collar on, or <em>anything</em>.  He was being such a <em>dick</em> about it.  He's an indoor kitty, right?  Well, he wanted to go out so damn bad, so I let him out.  Gilbert," she laughed, "I didn't hear from him for <em>three</em> days.  Not a single <em>peep</em>.  And so guess who finally calls from the pound...and guess who had to go clear into Maple fucking Valley to pick him up?"</p><p>"Wait," Prussia began, holding a finger up.  "They just let your cat make a phone call...without even stopping to realise that he's a talking cat?"</p><p>"That's what I'm saying!"</p><p>They laughed.  Then Washington leaned against the sink and gave him a fey look.  "What are you going to do with that little sombrero?"</p><p>He smiled slyly.  "Nothing," he began, inching over to her.</p><p>"Don't you <em>dare</em> put that wet cat hair on my head!" </p><p>Outside on the deck, Amerika and Denmark stared at each other.  Two minutes later Prussia ran out of the house with pictures on his phone of a very annoyed looking Washington staring into the camera with a little black cat-hair sombrero on her head.</p><p><em>"Delete</em> those," she shouted, tearing out of the house.  Denmark yelled with laughter. </p><p>"You're still <em>wearing</em> it!"</p><p>She turned to him.  "Shut <em>up!"</em></p><p>"But it's so <em>cute</em>, Birdie," Prussia insisted.  "Anyway, I <em>can't</em> delete them.  They're in the cloud."</p><p><em>"Damn</em> you, Microsoft," she muttered. </p><p>Ejnar appeared with Bartholomew, who looked absolutely <em>thrilled</em> to be wrapped in a towel.  "Pappa, hvorfor har mor en katterhårhue på?"</p><p>"That's <em>my</em> hair," Bartholomew said.  "Give it <em>back!"</em></p><p>"Fine, <em>take</em> it," Washington said, jamming it onto his head.  Now he looked even <em>more</em> ecstatic to be alive. </p><p>"It looks better on our little convict friend, anyways," Prussia declared.  Bartholomew hissed.</p><p>"Damn you, Kate, you're telling everyone again!  I <em>told</em> you, I--"  But before he could finish berating Washington, Ejnar squeezed him and carried him back inside.  Denmark and Amerika continued their conversation, completely tuning out Washington and Prussia as they deliberately left them alone together. </p><p>"What the hell are you <em>doing,</em> Mathias?" Washington hollered to him, but he acted like he couldn't hear her.  Frustrated, she turned back to Prussia.  "Gilbert, what the fuck are they <em>up</em> to?"</p><p>He raised his eyebrows as he watched the two traitors disappear towards the beach.  "Making us deal with shit."</p><p>"But we <em>are! </em> You saw just now, we even cleaned that damn <em>mess</em> together!"  She looked furious.  "What more could there possibly<em> be?"</em></p><p>Prussia sighed deeply.  Scrubbing his face with his hand, he wished she wouldn't force him to be the one who brought it up.  Brought <em>them</em> up.</p><p>The sons he had intended her to bear him, and she had killed. </p><p>"Please," she said, <em>"don't</em> say it."  Her voice, usually as steady as a rock, wavered.  But he couldn't keep the terrible secret any more.</p><p>"When I see him," he began, "it reminds me that my own sons were never born."</p><p>Her hands tightened on the railing of the deck.  It was constructed to withstand her destructive forces, but even so, it groaned in protest at her touch. </p><p><em>"Please,"</em> she repeated.</p><p>"I did not do it to hurt you," he insisted.  "The first time, yes.  But <em>not</em> the other times.  I didn't <em>want</em> you to hate me, especially since my people were settling in your lands.  If you bore my sons then you would be mine, and I could love you.  And eventually you would love <em>me."</em></p><p>"You wouldn't have <em>wanted</em> me to love you," she promised.  "I'm not very good at it.  I don't know what love <em>is,</em> Gilbert."</p><p>"Yes you do," he objected.  "You've loved Den since the beginning of time.  And you love your boy, and Oregon.  They love you.  You know <em>exactly</em> what love is."  He leaned against the railing, forcing her to look at him.  "I look at your son and I can see what <em>ours</em> would have been like, and it hurts, because they would have been <em>beautiful,</em> Katrina."</p><p>Washington flinched.  She had obviously not expected to hear <em>that</em>. </p><p>"But you did the right thing, because I had no <em>right</em> to force you," he went on.  "I wasn't trying to hurt you, but I was trying to hurt Denmark, and America.  If I could have you for myself, they would just have to deal with it.  Amerika would have to stop his offensive against me and Denmark would be forced to watch as you became mine."</p><p>"Why <em>me,</em> though?  I'm <em>nobody</em> to you.  Your people live here, that's all," Washington pointed out. </p><p>He stared at her.  "Because you <em>hated</em> me.  The more you hated me the more I <em>wanted</em> you.  I was amazed at how intensely you felt anger for what I had done  to Denmark all those years ago.  I suppose I knew that you loved him even then, and so I wanted to <em>take</em> you from him.  But I didn't know how to do it until I put my hands on you and realised that you were unspoiled.  So I forced you, because I knew that if <em>I</em> had you first, you would give yourself to me after that, and you did.  I can't change any of it," he added.  "But if I could, I would have <em>never</em> done what I did in Roumare."</p><p>"You aren't like Denmark," she murmured.  "He wanted me still even after what you did to me.  You get what you want and then you don't want it anymore."</p><p>"I <em>was</em> like that," he agreed.  "But I <em>never</em> would have cast you aside.  You're right," he added.  "I would have regretted it if I managed to capture you."</p><p>She hugged herself, gazing unhappily down at the beach in the distance.  "Gilbert, it's too late," she informed him.  "I understand now.  Talking isn't going to bring back what isn't lost and words can't fix what's not broken.  The land <em>always</em> bears the scars," she added, turning to face him, and now that they were so near each other, he clearly saw the scar of his teeth on her neck, the individual marks as precise as the day they had been made.</p><p>"You took something that didn't belong to you, and you never gave it back."</p><p>From above them, behind Ejnar's closed window, came Bartholomew's strident voice:  "Get this dress offa me!"</p><p>"He'll keep Ejnar occupied for as long as he has to," she said.  "They're <em>all</em> in on it, so I'm surprised you haven't already said."  She tilted her head in the direction of the beach.  "He suggested it to you."</p><p>"I didn't agree, Katrina," he insisted.  "I told him that it was your decision."</p><p>"Yes, it <em>is</em> my decision," she declared, drawing herself up to look straight into him, "and I've decided that I am taking back what you stole from me."  </p><p>She wasn't passed out yet.</p><p>Prussia knew he should be completely chill and over the moon, because who else was awesome enough to have permission to get totally baked on hash and edibles alone with someone else's woman?</p><p>But now she was just lying there in the dark and...<em>plotting</em> things.  He <em>knew</em> it.  She had gotten him here and had gotten him good and wasted and now she was going to betray him and kill him.  </p><p>She muttered something, and he screamed.  "What?  Jesus <em>Christ."</em></p><p>"Cocoa Pebbles, Gil.  I said Cocoa Pebbles."</p><p>He relaxed.  "Count Chocula."</p><p>She hissed.  "Shit, I forgot about that.  Yes.  Count Chocula."</p><p>"Waffles," he added.</p><p>"Crepes."</p><p>"Erdbeeren."</p><p>She sat up.  "Himbeeren."</p><p>"Big spoon," he declared.</p><p>"Little spoon."</p><p>They sat against the headboard, playing the game until they got to the inevitable subject of beer.  Washington threatened to punch him if he kept dissing her microbrews, and they ended up in a violent fistfight that took them all the way outside.  As Denmark and Amerika tried to have a conversation about whose pastries were better, they were loudly interrupted by Washington and Prussia completely beating the shit out of each other.  They hit the ground, rolling around and trying to strangle each other while punching each other at the same time.  Prussia finally managed to throw her off and tried to get away, but she rose up and lunged at him, pinning him.</p><p>"My beer is <em>not</em> inferior!  Let's see who gets drunker off whose beer," she announced, sitting on his chest. </p><p>"Uh-oh," Amerika sighed.  "Hey, guys, not right now, okay?  How about tomorrow?"</p><p>Washington glared at him.  "How about shut up?  This is all <em>your</em> fault."</p><p>"Help," Prussia muttered, unable to move.  Then he glared at Denmark.  "You know, you <em>could</em> help out here.  Get her <em>off</em> me!"</p><p>"I could," he agreed.  "But no."  He stood up and checked his watch.  "Oh.  It's time.  Ejnar, kom nu, vi tager med onkel Norge," he bellowed.  </p><p>"Why?" Washington exclaimed.  "Come on, Mathias.  Wasn't that en--"</p><p>"Ssh," he said, pulling her to her feet, to Prussia's everlasting relief.  "No.  Listen, elskede.  You have to be able to have a disagreement with Gilbert without getting violent.  What we <em>should</em> have done is gotten you two one of those 'get along' shirts, but they don't come in adult sizes and we didn't plan far enough ahead to have one made.  So you're going to be here by yourselves with Bartholomew to keep track of progress until you guys can go without beating the shit out of each other over stupid shit."</p><p>Washington's eyes narrowed dangerously.  "Beer is <em>not</em> stupid shit."</p><p>"That's not fair!  She started it," Prussia complained. </p><p>"No I <em>didn't!"</em></p><p>"Oh, you did," he insisted.</p><p>Amerika narrowed his eyes.  "Both of you sit facing the hanging tree."</p><p>As they sat down, not looking at each other, Prussia said to her, "You're a goddamn <em>psychopath</em>.  Who has a fucking <em>hanging tree</em> in their yard?  Oh.  <em>You."</em></p><p>"Five minutes of no talking," Denmark announced.  "Starting now." </p><p>Washington and Prussia gave each other dirty side-eye.  Denmark and Ejnar both came to her side and kissed her goodbye. </p><p>"Well, Norge is here, so we'll be back in a few days," Denmark said.  "No talking," he added, when she opened her mouth to protest.  "Bartholomew has me on speed dial.  He'll let me know the minute one of you fucks up.  Because then the time starts all over again!  So have fun, you two!"</p><p>"Ja, bye, mama," Ejnar said.  "Bye Onkel Gilbert.  Try not to kill each other too much."</p><p>"And remember," Denmark added, "no talking for five minutes."</p><p>Washington gave him an obscene gesture the minute they turned to go, and then glared at Prussia again.  He stuck his tongue out at her.  They sat there glaring at the tree for what seemed like a million years, until Washington scoffed and stood up.</p><p>"Hey!" Prussia exclaimed.  "That was <em>never</em> five minutes just now!"</p><p>"No fucking shit.  More like five <em>years,"</em> Washington said.  "Hey, I have an idea.  Let's get outta here.  All we gotta do, is bribe Bartholomew with some 'nip and salmon treats and we're totally golden."  She grabbed his arm and pulled him up.  "There's no <em>way</em> I'm just gonna hang out here on a Friday night when everyone's gone!  I'll go take care of Bartholomew and you get online to find a fucking band playing."</p><p>Bartholomew was totally down to let them go, on the condition that they at least make it home in time for Denmark's scheduled FaceTime call. </p><p>"No problem," Washington said.  "Be a good kitty."</p><p>Bartholomew sniffed derisively.  "Are you <em>kidding? </em> It's me!"</p><p>She looked at him out of the tops of her eyes.  <em>"Exactly."</em></p><p>"Okay, Birdie," Prussia announced, "there's a show at Neumos starting at 9:30.  And I saw a blip for an art tour in this awesome old house--"</p><p>She shook her head.  "Wait, you said what?  A <em>blip?"</em></p><p>"Yeah, you know, a little blip about something," he explained. </p><p>"Gil, you are <em>fucked</em>, dude," she declared, as she piled salmon treats on a plate for Bartholomew. <em> "Blip</em>.  Jesus Fucking Christ."</p><p>Prussia would regret ever using that word by the time they got into his car to drive into Seattle's Capitol Hill neighborhood.  And even then she wasn't done tormenting him.  Every time they stopped at a traffic signal, she would whisper, "Blip".  Finally he turned on the stereo and raised the volume as high as it would go.  </p><p>He stopped in front of a large, sweeping Victorian.  Washington obviously knew the place, because she made sure to point out the stupid white string lights around the eaves of the house.</p><p>"She saw a picture of my place that someone took during a party," Washington sneered.  "I had these lights up so that my guests could <em>see,</em> not for looks.  This broad doesn't have outdoor parties during the winter," she added.  "She just thought it looked <em>elegant."</em>  She rolled her eyes and put her arm through his.  "Well, get ready for the most self-absorbed twat you'll never want to meet again.  The inside of her house is cool though."</p><p>"I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight and generously donating to the Seattle MoMA," the greying, post-menopausal bird said.  "As many of you already know, I'm Gloria Cunliffe, and I host these art gatherings on the third Fridays of each month.  This month happens to coincide with Syttende Mai, so we're welcoming our Norwegian friends here this evening," she added.  Her eyes rested on Prussia and Washington.  "Why Katrina Braginskaya," she said.  "How <em>lovely</em> for you to attend.  And who is this <em>charming</em> gentleman?"</p><p>Washington introduced them, assuming the most formal mannerisms that he had seen her use since that awful night in Potsdam.  He noticed that Gloria Cunliffe seemed a bit on the waspish side and figured she would be good for an antic of unprecedented proportion, so he decided that they might as well stay awhile and mingle. </p><p>The buzzard took him around the room, introducing him to several of her associates and friends.  Prussia wasn't sure if he should pretend to be impressed or not.  Washington, he noticed, wasn't even bothering to make eye contact with any of them.</p><p>"And this is Martin Bohrmann and his wife Elisa," Gloria Cunliffe went on.  Prussia's ears perked a bit at the name, and he politely nodded at the bookish-looking man and his equally timid wife.  "And here we have Mr. and Mrs. Darryl Hitler..."</p><p>Prussia smiled predatorily and paused next to the suddenly-terrified Hitlers.  "You aren't by chance related to the Boston Hitlers?" he purred as Washington struggled to keep from braying out laughing.  The girl was admirably straight-faced. Denmark was <em>so</em> lucky, he thought, not for the first time.</p><p>"No, we're from Glen Cove, New York," Darryl said, clearly trying not to piss himself.  The Cunliffe wasp eyed Prussia with suspicion.</p><p>"Gloria, darling, I'm noticing that you've finally installed the Ressie," a too-tall and too thin woman declared down her nose.  "Feel that <em>pile</em>.  It's simply <em>divine."</em></p><p>Several guests made sounds of appreciation as they examined the rug beneath their feet, and then a man entered the room and Gloria Cunliffe crowed in snobbish delight.</p><p>"Oh, <em>shit!"</em> Washington hissed, yanking Prussia around the corner.  "It's Sten Haglund!  He's still fucking pissed at me from when I launched an M-80 at his house like twenty years ago!"</p><p>Prussia peeked around the corner at a dour-looking man of legendary girth.  His size made Level 3 Göring look positively svelte.  "What's the trouble,  Birdie?" he asked, smirking.  "He seems nice."</p><p>"Huh, yeah, probably because Gloria Cunliffe has been sucking his cock in public toilets for the past eighty years," she sneered, grabbing two glasses of wine off the passing tray.  She took a drink and nearly gagged.  <em>"Oh</em>.  Oh, <em>fuck,</em> this is awful!  Don't drink that," she warned, hoping to stop him before he could raise the glass to his lips.</p><p>Too late, Prussia held the liquid blasphemy in his mouth, desperately looking for somewhere to spit it out.  Finally he spied a sturdy little handbag sat on the table by the door.  As he slid it away from him, his arm hit Washington's and she dropped her wineglass. </p><p><em>"Fuck!"</em> she yelled, and conversation around them came to a halt.  Gloria Cunliffe immediately called a servant over to take care of the mess.  Washington was already having great difficulty trying not to laugh, Prussia saw.  But she still managed to keep her face absolutely serious.  "I sincerely apologize, Gloria." </p><p>The woman eyed her critically for a moment and then offered her a stiff smile.  "It's quite alright, dear," she said.  "It's just an old rug."  She looked from Washington to Prussia and her smile looked even more forced.  Washington looked around for a moment, frowning. </p><p>"Now, just...dab it, and blot it," Gloria Cunliffe was saying to the maid, who nearly looked as though she were going to burst into tears.  Prussia thought it might be a good time for them to split, but Washington was still looking around in confusion. </p><p>"Gil, where the <em>fuck's</em> my purse?" she demanded.  "I left it right...oh, <em>there</em> it is," she sighed, reaching behind the statue Prussia had shoved it near.  She lifted it into her hand and then recoiled in disgust. "What the <em>fuck?"</em> she exclaimed, dropping her purse on the rug.  Red wine exploded out of it, running in rivulets towards the earlier spill.<em>  "Jesus!"</em></p><p>"My dear," Gloria Cunliffe began, touching her arm briefly.  She quickly took her hand away as if she feared Washington had leprosy, Prussia thought.  He scowled and had to force himself not to throw a glass of that horrible wine in her wrinkled face.  She leaned forward and spoke to Washington as if she were talking to a simpleton, which further infuriated Prussia.  "Katrina, if your hands aren't steady enough to hold a glass of wine, then perhaps you shouldn't be drinking wine.  Once is an understandable accident, but <em>twice</em> in a row--"</p><p>Prussia had finally had enough of this woman's insufferable pomposity.  He took another glass off the circulating tray and promptly dumped it out, right at the servant's feet.  "There," he announced.  "Now you can take your damned carpet to the cleaners and send the bill to me.  Come along, Katrina, we're going."</p><p>"You son of a <em>bitch,"</em> Gloria Cunliffe said, coldly. Prussia drew himself up and regarded her with every bit of Prussian disdain that he could muster, which was actually a considerable amount, and the atmosphere in the room chilled to nearly subzero temperatures.  A hush fell over the entire house.</p><p>"You <em>dare</em> call me a son of a bitch?" he mocked. "Believe me when I tell you that I have seen a great number of deviant fetishes in my lifetime, but your erotic obsession with your rug is the most <em>depraved</em> thing I have <em>ever</em> borne witness to.  Good evening, Mrs. Cunliffe."  He turned and gracefully swept Washington out of the room, pausing in the foyer to retrieve their jackets.  "Just a minute," he added.  "Go on outside.  I'll be right there."</p><p>He nipped around the staircase towards the back of the house.  His little project would only take him a few minutes, but he had to work rapidly because he didn't want to leave her standing there too long.</p><p>Washington was waiting for him on the porch.  He hustled her down the steps and towards his car, hurrying but not quite running.  "Let's get the fuck <em>out</em> of here!"</p><p>"Where are we going?" she asked as the car tore up the hill.  "Neumos is the other way.  What did you do?"</p><p>He came to a stop on the point above the house.  "Remember those lights you hated so much?" he asked.  "Well, I decided that I would have a little fun and create some visual art of my own.  Check it out," he said, smiling proudly.  Washington gazed down at the house, drawing in a deep breath.  Her eyes widened in amazed appreciation as she looked upon the lights which now spelled out CUNTLIFFE.  </p><p>"Gil," she breathed, "that is the most <em>incredibly</em> awesome thing I have <em>ever</em> seen on someone's house."</p><p>"Do you <em>really</em> like it?  I did it because she was such a whorebag towards you," he informed her.  <em>"Ha!</em>  As if she could <em>possibly</em> be more cultured than the awesome me."</p><p>He decided that if she would just keep looking at him like that, he would vandalise every set of outdoor lights in the city.</p><p>"Yes," she declared.  "It's the nicest thing anyone's <em>ever</em> done for me.  Thank you,  Gilbert.  You're a true pal."  She turned to look at him, her eyes shining. Prussia's heart promptly melted and he was now hopelessly in love with her.  Too bad she was already married to Den, he thought.  But he could put up with pining for her, he decided.  Denmark was his friend and friends didn't steal each other's wives.  She put her arm around him and leaned on his shoulder, making it even harder for him not to kiss her.  But he managed to stay a perfect gentleman even when she added, "None of my other useless friends have <em>ever</em> done anything like this.  You are most sincerely awesome."  And then to his complete and utter joy she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "Now let's get to that show!"</p><p>"Jawohl, Fräulein Braginskaya!"  He <em>had</em> to get a photo of this, he thought.  So before they left the hill he took a few shots, posting them immediately on his Twitter captioned #DontFuckWithAwesome.</p><p>Almost immediately after that, his phone began to blow up.  "Hey," he said, noticing her number and Bartholomew's face, "your cat is calling on FaceTime."</p><p>"Well, <em>answer</em> it!" she exclaimed.  "Here, I'll talk to him.  Hey, Bartholomew.  What's up?"</p><p>"What the hell are you two <em>doing?"</em> he demanded. "Has Bird Brain totally forgotten that everyone's on his Twitter, and you're supposed to be sitting in the fucking back yard?"</p><p>"Sorry?  What's that?  You're static," Prussia screamed, and shoved his phone into the glove box. "C'mon, Birdie.  Let's <em>do</em> this!"</p><p>The show was sold out, but they got in anyways.  "Get up on my shoulders," he said.  "Hold my phone so we can get awesome footage.  I'm LiveStreaming this, so be steady!"</p><p>"Queens of the Stone Age reign!"  Washington yelled into the screen.  The crowd were boisterous and loud, but with her vantage point she was able to get good video, until she realised that she could hear Bartholomew screaming at her from the phone's speaker.  "Oh, shit.  What, dude?"</p><p>"Are you <em>both</em> brain-damaged?  That's live on every platform the stupid Hun is on!  You'd better get the fuck back here, because both the Hero <em>and</em> the Lego Lord are blowing your shit up, and leaving angry emojis," Bartholomew warned.  "They're on their way back here right now and you'd <em>better</em> be by that fucking tree when they get here.  Get home <em>now."</em></p><p>"Fuck me!  Gil, c'mon, we gotta go!  Put me down. They're pissed because we aren't sitting in the yard rotting away.  Hurry!"  Plowing through the crowds, they finally made it outside and after a critical delay of several minutes they reached the car. </p><p>"What are they doing spying on my Twitter?"  Prussia demanded.  "Don't they have <em>other</em> things to do?"  They roared towards the highway, lights off just in case they passed America's Chevelle.  The twenty-five minutes it took to get back to the house were the longest and shortest either of them had ever spent. Luckily, they arrived first.  Bartholomew met them at the door.</p><p> "Get out back!  Here.  Put this damn thing <em>on!"</em>  He swiped in an Amazon box and tossed a t-shirt at them. </p><p>"Jesus <em>Fuck,</em> Bartholomew," Washington grunted as she and Prussia squeezed into the newly-arrived 'get-along' shirt.  It was so tight that they could barely move once it was on.  Prussia, however, was <em>very</em> much pleased with this.  When he inevitably showed his appreciation for her awesome figure, she glared at him and tried to shift her lower body.</p><p>"Sorry," he said, and she sighed.</p><p>"I know.  It's this damned shirt," she agreed. "Bartholomew, couldn't you get one in a larger size?"</p><p>"That <em>is</em> the larger size," the cat replied. </p><p>"Fuck!"</p><p>"Get <em>out</em> there, you idiots!  They're <em>here!"</em></p><p>Prussia practically dragged her across the lawn and almost ripped the shirt when he sat them down just in time for a suspicion-filled Denmark and America to poke their heads out the sliding doors.  Washington tried to wave, but she couldn't even breathe, much less move her arm.</p><p>"See?  I <em>told</em> you they were right fucking here the whole time," Bartholomew said, loudly.  "Now you can both go on and get out of here until Monday like you agreed."</p><p>Denmark narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  "What are they wearing?"</p><p>"I went on Amazon and found them a 'get-along' shirt, because they wouldn't stop fighting," Bartholomew said proudly.  "So they're wearing it now until they can be nice."</p><p>America frowned.  "I thought they didn't come in adult sizes," he said. </p><p>"They...<em>don't,"</em> Washington gasped.  "I can't move.  Or <em>breathe."</em></p><p>"Well, as long as everything's okay," Denmark began, still looking slightly suspicious of them.  "I guess we'll head back to the show."  </p><p>Washington and Prussia both whipped their heads around, knocking them violently together.  "What fucking show?  Oh, fuck me right in the ass," Washington groaned, holding her aching head.</p><p>"Queens of the Stone Age," Denmark replied, smiling slyly.  "They <em>totally</em> reign."</p><p>
  <em>"FUCK!"</em>
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